DUKE  UNIVERSITY 
LIBRARY 

NEWMAN  COLLECTION 


PRESENTED  BY 

RUTH  GALLERT  NEWMAN 

IN  MEMORY 

OF 

JAMES  R.  NEWMAN 


* 


Uibrarp  of  iPbtlosopb^. 

EDITED  BY  J.  H.  MUIRHEAD,  LL.D. 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


Some  Opinions 

“ Though  it  can  hardly  be  claimed  that 
Bergson  has  completely  solved  the  extra- 
ordinary complex  and  difficult  problem 
of  memory  and  least  of  all  the  mystery 
of  matter , it  may  be  admitted  ungrudg- 
ingly  that  he  has  clarified  the  obscurities  of 
the  forrncr  problem  to  a considerable  extent , 
and  has,  above  all,  rendered  great  service 
by  tJie  masterly  way  in  which  he  points  out 
the  insuperable  difficulties  of  the  materi- 
alistic position.  . . . This  excellent  trans- 
lation — The  Quest. 

“ Of  M.  Bergson’s  three  works  the  pre - 
sent  is  that  which  appeals  most  to  the 
educator  because  of  the  excellent  treatment 
of  the  very  practical  subjects  of  memory 
and  attention.  We  do  not  look  for  a 

of  the  Press. 

final  decision  of  such  problems  as  are 
here  dealt  with,  but  no  one  can  rise  from 
reading  this  book  and  retain  unchanged 
the  views  with  which  he  began  it.  To  say 
this  of  a book  of  psychometaphysics  is  to 
say  much.” — Journal  of  Education. 

“As  in  the  case  of  the  former  volume 
the  translator  of  this  second  volume  has 
the  author's  assistance  and  approval,  and 
the  author  has  also  written  for  it  a new 
Introduction,  superseding  that  which  ac- 
companies the  original  work.  In  this 
volume,  also , the  translators  have  given 
a number  of  useful  marginal  summaries 
and  a copious  index . — Westminster 
Review. 

By  the  same  Author,  uniform 

TIME  AND 

An  Essay  on  the  immerli 
Some  Opinion. 

“ A philosopher  who  can  think  origin- 
ally and  write  felicitously  is  a combin- 
ation rare  enough  to  justify  a careful 
study  of  his  message ; and  it  is  satis- 
factory to  note  that  M.  Bergson’s  three 
chief  works  will  soon  be  all  accessible  in 
English.  We  can  only  hope  that  the 
retidering  of  the  two  remaining  volumes 
will  be  as  successful  as  the  clear  and 
scholarly  version  which  Mr.  Pogson  gives 
of  his  Les  Donnees  immediates  de  la 
conscience.  The  title  Time  and  Free  Will 
has  been  substituted  for  the  somewhat 
colourless  title  given  by  M.  Bergson  to  his 
first  book  and  it  indicates  accurately  the 
chief  contents  of  the  volume,  mainly  a 
discussion  of  the  real  nature  of  time  and 
the  conclusions  drawn  by  the  author  there- 
from as  to  the  possibility  of  real  freedom. 
The  general  line  of  argument  is  the  same 
as  that  familiar  to  English  readers  in 
James'  Principles  of  Psychology,  but  it 
is  worked  out  by  Bergson  with  incom- 
parable lucidity  and  a fulness  of  treatment 
that  make  it  quite  conclusive.  It  is  not 
easy,  by  any  process  of  summarizing  or 
selecting,  to  convey  the  real  force  and 
persuasiveness  of  M.  Bergson’s  argument. 
The  temperate  critic  may  reasonably 
doubt  whether  he  has  laid  this  venerable 
controversy  to  its  final  rest,  but  he  will 
not  deny  that  both  his  admissions  and 
contentions  go  far  to  clear  the  air,  and 
that  many  musty  idols  of  the  schools 
crumble  at  his  touch.” — Times. 

“ Prof.  Bergson  occupies  to-day  in 
France,  and  indeed  on  the  Continent, 
something  of  the  same  position  as  the 
late  Prof.  William  Young  occupied 
among  English-speaking  peoples.  Both 
are  apostles  of  the  plain  man  and  the 
ordinary  consciousness.  Both  approached 
philosophy  proper  through  experimental 
psychology,  but  Professor  Bergson  has 
one  special  stage  in  his  development  which 
gives  his  work  a peculiar  interest.  He  is 
an  eminent  mathematician  and  familiar 
with  the  most  abstract  types  of  symbolical 
thought.  Prof.  Bergson  is  not  an  easy 
writer  to  translate.  His  style  in  its 

with  this  volume,  10s.6d.  net. 

FREE  WILL: 

ate  Data  of  Consciousness, 
s of  the  Press. 

sitnplicily  and  clarity  and  concentration 
is  one  of  the  best  that  have  ever  been  used 
in  the  service  of  philosophy ; and  for  a 
succinct  French  style  it  is  a hard  matter 
to  find  an  English  equivalent.  Mr. 
Pogson  seems  to  have  done  his  work  ad- 
mirably, for  he  has  succeeded  in  being 
always  lucid  arid  satisfactory,  while  re- 
taining something  of  the  grace  of  the 
original.” — Spectator. 

“ The  translation  reproduces  the  re- 
markable lucidity  of  thought  and  express - 
sion  that  distinguish  M.  Bergson's  pre 
sentment  of  a philosophical  subject.  It 
will  be  fairly  easy  for  the  educated  reader 
who  has  any  taste  for  inquiry  into  ques- 
tions of  man’s  mental  life  to  follow  M. 
Bergson's  extremely  interesting  discus- 
sions.”— Saturday  Review. 

“ The  translator  of  this  book  has  done 
his  work  thoroughly  well.  Prof.  Berg- 
son’s French  style  is  lucid  enough  in  its 
own  way,  but  he  writes  in  a highly  con- 
centrated fashion,  having,  moreover,  a 
line  of  thought  to  develop  which  is  apt 
by  its  sheer  unfamiliarity  to  baffle  even  the 
most  professional  of  philosophers.  In 
the  present  version  the  meaning  ts  brought 
out  tenth  punctilious  exactness  as  by 
one  who  has  weighed  each  word  of  the 
original,  yet  the  effect  of  the  whole  is 
natural  and  easy.  It  is  indeed  no  small 
misfortune  to  the  world  of  letters  that  the 
rendering  of  those  later  works  in  which 
the  Bergsonian  doctrine  of  reality  attains 
its  full  consummation  must  become  the 
task  of  other  hands.  . . . It  is  not  necessary 
here  to  examine  in  any  great  detail  a book , 
the  conclusions  of  which  are  as  stepping 
stones  leading  on  to  the  maturer , or  at 
any  rate,  more  comprehensive  studies 
represented  by  Matidre  et  Memoire,  and 
more  notably  still  that  triumph  of  auda- 
cious synthesis , L’ Evolution  Crdatrice. 
The  present  treatise  embodies  a highly 
compact  piece  of  introspective  psychology 
in  three  chapters , the  first  two  of  which 
are  intended  to  serve  as  a sort  of  intro- 
duction to  the  first.” — Athen$um. 

MATTER 

\ \ 

AND  MEMORY 


E 7 

HENRI  BERGSON 

MEMBER  OP  THE  INSTITUTE 
PROFESSOR  AT  THE  COLLEGE  DE  FRANCE 

Authorized  Translation  by 

NANCY  MARGARET  PAUL  and  W.  SCOTT  PALMER 


LONDON:  GEORGE  ALLEN  & UNWIN  LTD. 
RUSKIN  HOUSE,  MUSEUM  STREET,  W.C. 


NEW  YORK 


THE  MACMILLAN  CO. 


First  published:  January  1911 

Reprinted:  January  1912 

,,  March  1913 

,,  September  1919 


TRANSLATORS’  NOTE 

This  translation  of  Monsieur  Bergson’s  Matter e 
et  Memoire  has  been  made  from  the  fifth  edition 
of  1908,  and  has  had  the  great  advantage  of 
being  revised  in  proof  by  the  author.  Monsieur 
Bergson  has  also  written  a new  Introduction  for 
it,  which  supersedes  that  which  accompanied  the 
original  work. 

The  translators  offer  their  sincere  thanks  to 
the  author  for  his  invaluable  help  in  these  matters 
and  for  many  suggestions  made  by  him  while  the 
book  was  in  manuscript. 

They  beg  leave  to  call  the  reader’s  attention 
to  the  fact  that  all  the  marginal  notes  are  peculiar 
to  the  English  edition  ; and  that,  although  Mon- 
sieur Bergson  has  been  good  enough  to  revise 
them,  he  is  not  responsible  for  their  insertion  or 
character,  since  they  form  no  part  of  his  own  plan 
for  the  book. 

N.  M.  P. 
W.  S.  P. 


v 


5 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https ://  a rc  h i ve . o rg/d  etai  I s/ m atte  rmemoryOlberg 


INTRODUCTION 


This  book  affirms  the  reality  of  spirit  and  the 
reality  of  matter,  and  tries  to  determine  the  rela- 
tion of  the  one  to  the  other  by  the  study  of  a defi- 
nite example,  that  of  memory.  It  is,  then,  frankly 
dualistic.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  deals  with 
body  and  mind  in  such  a way  as,  we  hope,  to 
lessen  greatly,  if  not  to  overcome,  the  theoretical 
difficulties  which  have  always  beset  dualism,  and 
which  cause  it,  though  suggested  by  the  immediate 
verdict  of  consciousness  and  adopted  by  common 
sense,  to  be  held  in  small  honour  among  philoso- 
phers. 

These  difficulties  are  due,  for  the  most  part,  to 
the  conception,  now  realistic,  now  idealistic, 
which  philosophers  have  of  matter.  The  aim  of 
our  first  chapter  is  to  show  that  realism  and 
idealism  both  go  too  far,  that  it  is  a mistake  to 
reduce  matter  to  the  perception  which  we  have 
of  it,  a mistake  also  to  make  of  it  a thing  able  to 
produce  in  us  perceptions,  but  in  itself  of  another 
nature  than  they.  Matter,  in  our  view,  is  an 
aggregate  of  ‘ images/  And  by  ‘ image  ’ we 
mean  a certain  existence  which  is  more  than  that 
which  the  idealist  calls  a representation,  but  less 
than  that  which  the  realist  calls  a thing, — an 

vii 


vrn 


INTRODUCTION 


existence  placed  half-way  between  the  ‘ thing  ’ 
and  the  ‘ representation/  This  conception  of 
matter  is  simply  that  of  common  sense.  It  would 
greatly  astonish  a man  unaware  of  the  specula- 
tions of  philosophy  if  we  told  him  that  the  object 
before  him,  which  he  sees  and  touches,  exists  only 
in  his  mind  and  for  his  mind,  or  even,  more  gener- 
ally, exists  only  for  mind,  as  Berkeley  held.  Such 
a man  would  always  maintain  that  the  object 
exists  independently  of  the  consciousness  which 
perceives  it.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  should 
astonish  him  quite  as  much  by  telling  him  that 
the  object  is  entirely  different  from  that  which  is 
perceived  in  it,  that  it  has  neither  the  colour  as- 
cribed to  it  by  the  eye,  nor  the  resistance  found  in 
it  by  the  hand.  The  colour,  the  resistance,  are, 
for  him,  in  the  object  : they  are  not  states  of  our 
mind  ; they  are  part  and  parcel  of  an  existence 
really  independent  of  our  own.  For  common 
sense,  then,  the  object  exists  in  itself,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  object  is,  in  itself,  pictorial,  as  we 
perceive  it  : image  it  is,  but  a self-existing  image. 

This  is  just  the  sense  in  which  we  use  the  word 
image  in  our  first  chapter.  We  place  ourselves 
at  the  point  of  view  of  a mind  unaware  of  the  dis- 
putes between  philosophers.  Such  a mind  would 
naturally  believe  that  matter  exists  just  as  it  is 
perceived  ; and,  since  it  is  perceived  as  an  image, 
the  mind  would  make  of  it,  in  itself,  an  image. 
In  a word,  we  consider  matter  before  the  dissocia- 
tion which  idealism  and  realism  have  brought 


INTRODUCTION 


ix 


about  between  its  existence  and  its  appearance. 
No  doubt  it  has  become  difficult  to  avoid  this 
dissociation  now  that  philosophers  have  made  it. 
To  forget  it,  however,  is  what  we  ask  of  the  reader. 
If,  in  the  course  of  this  first  chapter,  objections 
arise  in  his  mind  against  any  of  the  mews  that  we 
put  forward,  let  him  ask  himself  whether  these 
objections  do  not  imply  his  return  to  one  or  the 
other  of  the  two  points  of  view  above  which  we 
urge  him  to  nse. 

Philosophy  made  a great  step  forward  on  the 
day  when  Berkeley  proved,  as  against  the  ‘ me- 
chanical philosophers,’  that  the  secondary  qualities 
of  matter  have  at  least  as  much  reality  as  the 
primary  qualities.  His  mistake  lay  in  believing 
that,  for  this,  it  was  necessary  to  place  matter 
within  the  mind,  and  make  it  into  a pure  idea. 
Descartes,  no  doubt,  had  put  matter  too  far  from 
us  when  he  made  it  one  with  geometrical  extensity. 
But,  in  order  to  bring  it  nearer  to  us,  there  was  no 
need  to  go  to  the  point  of  making  it  one  with  our 
own  mind.  Because  he  did  go  as  far  as  this, 
Berkeley  was  unable  to  account  for  the  success  of 
physics,  and,  whereas  Descartes  had  set  up  the 
mathematical  relations  between  phenomena  as 
their  very  essence,  he  was  obliged  to  regard  the 
mathematical  order  of  the  universe  as  a mere 
accident.  So  the  Kantian  criticism  became  neces- 
sary, to  show  the  reason  of  this  mathematical 
order  and  to  give  back  to  our  physics  a solid  found- 
ation— a task  in  which,  however,  it  succeeded 


X 


INTRODUCTION 


only  by  limiting  the  range  and  value  of  our  senses 
and  of  our  understanding.  The  criticism  of 
Kant,  on  this  point  at  least,  would  have  been 
unnecessary  ; the  human  mind,  in  this  direction  at 
least,  would  not  have  been  led  to  limit  its  own 
range  ; metaphysics  would  not  have  been  sacrificed 
to  physics,  if  philosophy  had  been  content  to  leave 
matter  half  way  between  the  place  to  which 
Descartes  had  driven  it  and  that  to  which  Berkeley 
drew  it  back — to  leave  it,  in  fact,  where  it  is  seen 
by  common  sense. 

There  we  shall  try  to  see  it  ourselves.  Our 
first  chapter  defines  this  way  of  looking  at  matter  ; 
the  last  sets  forth  the  consequences  of  such  a view. 
But,  as  we  said  before,  we  treat  of  matter  only  in 
so  far  as  it  concerns  the  problem  dealt  with  in  our 
second  and  third  chapters,  that  which  is  the  subject 
of  this  essay  : the  problem  of  the  relation  between 
soul  and  body. 

This  relation,  though  it  has  been  a favourite 
theme  throughout  the  history  of  philosophy,  has 
really  been  very  little  studied.  If  we  leave  on  one 
side  the  theories  which  are  content  to  state  the 
‘ union  of  soul  and  body  ’ as  an  irreducible  and 
inexplicable  fact,  and  those  which  speak  vaguely 
of  the  body  as  an  instrument  of  the  soul,  there 
remains  hardly  any  other  conception  of  the  psycho- 
physiological  relation  than  the  hypothesis  of 
‘ epiphenomenalism  ’ or  that  of  ‘ parallelism,’  which 
in  practice — I mean  in  the  interpretation  of  par- 
ticular facts — both  end  in  the  same  conclusions. 


INTRODUCTION 


XI 


For  whether,  indeed,  thought  is  regarded  as  a mere 
function  of  the  brain  and  the  state  of  consciousness 
as  an  epiphenomenon  of  the  state  of  the  brain,  or 
whether  mental  states  and  brain  states  are  held  to 
be  two  versions,  in  two  different  languages,  of 
one  and  the  same  original,  in  either  case  it  is  laid 
down  that,  could  we  penetrate  into  the  inside  of  a 
brain  at  work  and  behold  the  dance  of  the  atoms 
which  make  up  the  cortex,  and  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  possessed  the  key  to  psycho-physiology, 
we  should  know  every  detail  of  what  is  going  on  in 
the  corresponding  consciousness. 

This,  indeed,  is  what  is  most  commonly  main- 
tained by  philosophers  as  well  as  by  men  of  science. 
Yet  it  would  be  well  to  ask  whether  the  facts, 
when  examined  without  any  preconceived  idea, 
really  suggest  an  hypothesis  of  this  kind.  That 
there  is  a close  connexion  between  a state  of  con- 
sciousness and  the  brain  we  do  not  dispute.  But 
there  is  also  a close  connexion  between  a coat  and 
the  nail  on  which  it  hangs,  for,  if  the  nail  is  pulled 
out,  the  coat  falls  to  the  ground.  Shall  we  say, 
then,  that  the  shape  of  the  nail  gives  us  the  shape 
of  the  coat,  or  in  any  way  corresponds  to  it  ? 
No  more  are  we  entitled  to  conclude,  because  the 
physical  fact  is  hung  on  to  a cerebral  state,  that 
there  is  any  parallelism  between  the  two  series 
psychical  and  physiological.  When  philosophy 
pleads  that  the  theory  of  parallelism  is  borne  out 
by  the  results  of  positive  science,  it  enters  upon  an 
unmistakably  vicious  circle  ; for,  if  science  inter- 


xii 


INTRODUCTION 


prets  connexion,  which  is  a fact,  as  signifying 
parallelism,  which  is  an  hypothesis  (and  an  hypo- 
thesis to  which  it  is  difficult  to  attach  an  intelligible 
meaning *),  it  does  so,  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
for  reasons  of  a philosophic  order  : it  is  because 
science  has  been  accustomed  by  a certain  type  of 
philosophy  to  believe  that  there  is  no  hypothesis 
more  probable,  more  in  accordance  with  the 
mterests  of  scientific  enquiry. 

Now,  as  soon  as  we  do,  indeed,  apply  to  positive 
facts  for  such  information  as  may  help  us  to  solve 
the  problem,  we  find  it  is  with  memory  that  we  have 
to  deal.  This  was  to  be  expected,  because  mem- 
ory— we  shall  try  to  prove  it  in  the  course  of  this 
work — is  just  the  intersection  of  mind  and  matter. 
But  we  may  leave  out  the  reason  here  : no  one,  at 
any  rate,  will  deny  that,  among  all  the  facts  capable 
of  throwing  light  on  the  psycho-physiological 
relation,  those  which  concern  memory,  whether  in 
the  normal  or  in  the  pathological  state,  hold  a 
privileged  position.  Not  only  is  the  evidence  here 
extremely  abundant  (consider  the  enormous  mass 
of  observations  collected  in  regard  to  the  various 
kinds  of  aphasia),  but  nowhere  else  have  anatomy, 
physiology  and  psychology  been  able  to  lend  each 
other  such  valuable  aid.  Any  one  who  approaches, 
without  preconceived  idea  and  on  the  firm  ground 
of  facts,  the  classical  problem  of  the  relations  of 

1 We  have  laid  stress  on  this  particular  point  in  an  essay 
on  “ Le  paralogisme  psycho-physiologique  ” ( Revue  de  Meta- 
physique ei  de  Morale,  Nov.,  1904). 


INTRODUCTION 


Xlll 


sonl  and  body,  will  soon  see  this  problem  as 
centering  upon  the  subject  of  memory,  and  even 
more  particularly  upon  the  memory  of  words  : it 
is  from  this  quarter,  undoubtedly,  that  will  come 
the  light  which  will  illumine  the  obscurer  parts  of 
the  problem. 

The  reader  will  see  how  we  try  to  solve  it.  Speak- 
ing generally,  the  psychical  state  seems  to  us  to  be, 
in  most  cases,  immensely  wider  than  the  cerebral 
state.  I mean  that  the  brain  state  indicates  only 
a very  small  part  of  the  mental  state,  that  part 
which  is  capable  of  translating  itself  into  move- 
ments of  locomotion.  Take  a complex  thought 
which  unrolls  itself  in  a chain  of  abstract  reasoning. 
This  thought  is  accompanied  by  images,  that  are 
at  least  nascent.  And  these  images  themselves 
are  not  pictured  in  consciousness  without  some 
foreshadowing,  in  the  form  of  a sketch  or  a ten- 
dency, of  the  movements  by  which  these  images 
would  be  acted  or  played  in  space, — would,  that  is 
to  say,  impress  particular  attitudes  upon  the  body, 
and  set  free  all  that  they  implicitly  contain  of 
spatial  movement.  Now,  of  all  the  thought  which 
is  unrolling,  this,  in  our  view,  is  what  the  cerebral 
state  indicates  at  every  moment.  He  who  could 
penetrate  into  the  interior  of  a brain  and  see  what 
happens  there,  would  probably  obtain  full  details 
of  these  sketched-out,  or  prepared,  movements  ; 
there  is  no  proof  that  he  would  learn  anything  else. 
Were  he  endowed  with  a superhuman  intellect, 
did  he  possess  the  key  to  psycho-physiology,  he 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION 


would  know  no  more  of  what  is  going  on  in  the 
corresponding  consciousness  than  we  should  know 
of  a play  from  the  comings  and  goings  of  the  actors 
upon  the  stage. 

That  is  to  say,  the  relation  of  the  mental  to  the 
cerebral  is  not  a constant,  any  more  than  it  is  a 
simple,  relation.  According  to  the  nature  of  the 
play  that  is  being  acted,  the  movements  of  the 
players  tell  us  more  or  less  about  it  : nearly  every- 
thing, if  it  is  a pantomime  ; next  to  nothing,  if  it 
is  a delicate  comedy.  Thus  our  cerebral  state 
contains  more  or  less  of  our  mental  state  in  the 
measure  that  we  reel  off  our  psychic  life  into 
action  or  wind  it  up  into  pure  knowledge. 

There  are  then,  in  short,  divers  tones  of  mental 
life,  or,  in  other  words,  our  psychic  life  may  be 
lived  at  different  heights,  now  nearer  to  action, 
now  further  removed  from  it,  according  to  the 
degree  of  our  attention  to  life.  Here  we  have  one 
of  the  ruling  ideas  of  this  book-the  idea,  indeed, 
which  served  as  the  starting-point  of  our  enquiry. 
That  which  is  usually  held  to  be  a greater  complex- 
ity of  the  psychical  state  appears  to  us,  from  our 
point  of  view,  to  be  a greater  dilatation  of  the 
whole  personality,  which,  normally  narrowed  down 
by  action,  expands  with  the  unscrewing  of  the 
vice  in  which  it  has  allowed  itself  to  be  squeezed, 
and,  always  whole  and  undivided,  spreads  itself 
over  a wider  and  wider  surface.  That  which  is 
commonly  held  to  be  a disturbance  of  the  psychic 
life  itself,  an  inward  disorder,  a disease  of  the  per- 


INTRODUCTION 


XV 


sonality,  appears  to  us,  from  our  point  of  view, 
to  be  an  unloosing  or  a breaking  of  the  tie  which 
binds  this  psychic  life  to  its  motor  accompaniment, 
a weakening  or  an  impairing  of  our  attention  to 
outward  life.  This  opinion,  as  also  that  which  de- 
nies the  localization  of  the  memory-images  of  words 
and  explains  aphasia  quite  otherwise  than  by  such 
localization,  was  considered  paradoxical  at  the 
date  of  the  first  publication  of  the  present  work 
(1896).  It  will  appear  much  less  so  now.  The 
conception  of  aphasia  then  classical,  universally 
admitted,  believed  to  be  unshakeable,  has  been 
considerably  shaken  in  the  last  few  years,  chiefly 
by  reasons  of  an  anatomical  order,  but  partly  also 
by  reasons  of  the  same  kind  as  those  which  we  then 
advanced.1  And  the  profound  and  original  study 
of  neuroses  made  by  Professor  Pierre  Janet  has 
led  him,  of  late  years,  to  explain  all  psychasthenic 
forms  of  disease  by  these  same  considerations  of 
psychic  ‘ tension  ’ and  of  attention  to  reality  which 
were  then  presumed  to  be  metaphysical.2 

In  truth,  it  was  not  altogether  a mistake  to  call 
them  by  that  name.  Without  denying  to  psycho- 
logy, any  more  than  to  metaphysics,  the  right  to 
make  itself  into  an  independent  science,  we  believe 
that  each  of  these  two  sciences  should  set  problems 
to  the  other  and  can,  in  a measure,  help  it  to  solve 

1 F.  Moutier,  L’ Aphasie  de  Broca,  Paris,  1908 ; especially 
Chapter  VII.  Cf.  the  work  of  Professor  Pierre  Marie. 

2 P.  Janet,  Les  obsessions  et  la  Psychasthenie,  Paris,  1903 ; 
in  particular  pp.  474-502. 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION 


them.  How  should  it  be  otherwise,  if  psychology 
has  for  its  object  the  study  of  the  human  mind 
working  for  practical  utility,  and  if  metaphysics  is 
but  this  same  mind  striving  to  transcend  the  con-- 
ditions  of  useful  action  and  to  come  back  to  itself 
as  to  a pure  creative  energy  ? Many  problems 
which  appear  foreign  to  each  other  as  long  as  we 
are  bound  by  the  letter  of  the  terms  in  which 
these  two  sciences  state  them,  are  seen  to  be  very 
near  akin  and  to  be  able  to  solve  each  other  when 
we  thus  penetrate  into  their  inner  meaning.  We 
little  thought,  at  the  beginning  of  our  enquiry, 
that  there  could  be  any  connexion  between  the 
analytical  study  of  memory  and  the  question, 
which  are  debated  between  realists  and  idealistss 
or  between  mechanists  and  dynamists,  with  regard 
to  the  existence  or  the  essence  of  matter.  Yet  this 
connexion  is  real,  it  is  even  intimate  ; and,  if  we 
take  it  into  account,  a cardinal  metaphysical 
problem  is  carried  into  the  open  field  of  observa- 
tion, where  it  may  be  solved  progressively,  instead 
of  for  ever  giving  rise  to  fresh  disputes  of  the 
schools  within  the  closed  lists  of  pure  dialectic. 
The  complexity  of  some  parts  of  the  present  work 
is  due  to  the  inevitable  dovetailing  of  problems 
which  results  from  approaching  philosophy  in  such 
a way.  But  through  this  complexity,  which  is 
due  to  the  complexity  of  reality  itself,  we  believe 
that  the  reader  will  find  his  way  if  he  keeps  a fast 
hold  on  the  two  principles  which  we  have  used  as 
a clue  throughout  our  own  researches.  The  first 


INTRODUCTION 


XVU 


is  that  in  psychological  analysis  we  must  never 
forget  the  utilitarian  character  of  our  mental  func- 
tions, which  are  essentially  turned  towards  action. 
The  second  is  that  the  habits  formed  in  action  find 
their  way  up  to  the  sphere  of  speculation,  where 
they  create  fictitious  problems,  and  that  meta- 
physics must  begin  by  dispersing  this  artificial 
obscurity. 

H.  BERGSON. 

Paris, 

October,  1910. 


CONTENTS 


''AGES 

Introduction vii-xvii 

CHAPTER  I 

Of  the  Selection  of  Images  for  Conscious 
Presentation.  What  our  Body  Means  and 
Does 1-85 

Real  action  and  virtual  action,  i— 8 ; Representation, 

8—14;  Realism  and  Idealism,  14—17;  The  choice  of 
images,  17— 35  ; Relation  between  representation  and 
action,  35—45  ; The  image  and  reality,  45—51  ; The 
image  and  affective  sensation,  51-55  ; Nature  of  affective 
sensation,  55—59 ; The  image,  apart  from  sensation, 

59—62  ; Natural  extension  of  images,  62—69  i Pure 
perception,  69—73  Approach  to  the  problem  of  matter, 

73-81  ; Memory,  81-85. 


CHAPTER  II 

Of  the  Recognition  of  Images.  Memory  and 

Brain 86-169 

The  two  forms  of  memory,  86-105  1 Movements  and 
Recollections,  105-118;  Recollections  and  movements, 

118—145  ; Realization  of  memories,  145—169. 


CHAPTER  III 


Of  the  Survival  of  Images.  Memory  and 

Mind  ........  170-232 

Pure  memory,  170-176;  What  the  present  is,  176—181  ; 

The  unconscious,  181—189  Existence,  189—191  ; Rela- 
tion of  past  and  present,  101—200  ; Memory  and  general 
six 


XX 


CONTENTS 


PAGES 

ideas,  201— 212  ; The  Association  of  Ideas,  212— 217; 

The  plane  of  action  and  the  plane  of  dream,  217—220; 

The  different  planes  of  consciousness,  220-225  '■  Attention 
to  life,  225—226 ; Mental  equilibrium,  227—230 ; The 
Office  of  the  body,  231—232. 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  Delimiting  and  Fixing  of  Images.  Percep- 

iiON  and  Matter.  Soul  and  Body  . . 233-298 

The  problem  of  dualism,  233—238  ; Description  of  the 
Method,  238—245  ; Indivisibility  of  movement,  246-253  ; 

Real  movement,  254—259  ; Perception  and  matter, 

259—267  ; Duration  and  tension,  267— 277  ; Extensity 
and  extension,  277-291  ; Soul  and  body,  291-298. 


Summary  and  Conclusion  . 
Index  . 


. 299-332 
. 333-339 


CHAPTER  I 


OF  THE  SELECTION  OF  IMAGES  FOR  CONSCIOUS 
PRESENTATION.  WHAT  OUR  BODY  MEANS  AND 
DOES. 

We  will  assume  for  the  moment  that  we  know 
nothing  of  theories  of  matter  and  theories  of 
spirit,  nothing  of  the  discussions  as  to  the  reality 
or  ideality  of  the  external  world.  Here  I am  in 
the  presence  of  images,  in  the  vaguest  sense  of 
the  word,  images  perceived  when  my  senses 
are  opened  to  them,  unperceived  when  they  are 
closed.  All  these  images  act  and  react  upon 
one  another  in  all  their  elementary  parts 
according  to  constant  laws  which  I call  laws  of 
nature,  and,  as  a perfect  knowledge  of  these  laws 
would  probably  allow  us  to  calculate  and  to  fore- 
see what  will  happen  in  each  of  these  images,  the 
future  of  the  images  must  be  contained  in  their 
present  and  will  add  to  them  nothing  new. 

Yet  there  is  one  of  them  which  is  distinct  from 

all  the  others,  in  that  I do  not  know  it  only  from 

without  by  perceptions,  but  from  within 

place  and  by  affections  : it  is  mv  body.  I exa- 
mination of  . . . . 

the  living  mine  the  conditions  m which  these 
affections  are  produced  : I find  that 

they  always  interpose  themselves  between  the  ex- 
citations that  I receive  from  without  and  the  move- 


2 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


ments  which  I am  about  to  execute,  as  though 
they  had  some  undefined  influence  on  the  final 
issue.  I pass  in  review  my  different  affections  : 
it  seems  to  me  that  each  of  them  contains,  after 
its  kind,  an  invitation  to  act,  with  at  the  same 
time  leave  to  wait  and  even  to  do  nothing.  I 
look  closer  : I find  movements  begun,  but  not 
executed,  the  indication  of  a more  or  less  useful 
decision,  but  not  that  constraint  which  precludes 
choice.  I call  up,  I compare  my  recollections : 
I remember  that  everywhere,  in  the  organic 
world,  I have  thought  I saw  this  same  sensibility 
appear  at  the  very  moment  when  nature,  having 
conferred  upon  the  living  being  the  power  of 
mobility  in  space,  gives  warning  to  the  species, 
by  means  of  sensation,  of  the  general  dangers 
which  threaten  it,  leaving  to  the  individuals  the 
precautions  necessary  for  escaping  from  them. 
Lastly,  I interrogate  my  consciousness  as  to  the 
part  which  it  plays  in  affection  : consciousness 
replies  that  it  is  present  indeed,  in  the  form  of 
feeling  or  of  sensation,  at  all  the  steps  in  which  I 
believe  that  I take  the  initiative,  and  that  it 
fades  and  disappears  as  soon  as  my  activity,  by 
becoming  automatic,  shows  that  consciousness 
is  no  longer  needed.  Therefore,  either  all  these 
appearances  are  deceptive,  or  the  act  in  which 
the  affective  state  issues  is  not  one  of  those 
which  might  be  rigorously  deduced  from  ante- 
cedent phenomena,  as  a movement  from  a move- 
ment ; and  hence  it  really  adds  something  new  to 


chap,  i REAL  AND  VIRTUAL  ACTION  3 

the  universe  and  to  its  history.  Let  us  hold  to 
the  appearances ; I will  formulate  purely  and 
simply  what  I feel  and  what  I see  : All  seems 
to  take  place  as  if,  in  this  aggregate  of  images 
which  I call  the  universe,  nothing  really  new  could 
happen  except  through  the  medium  of  certain  par- 
ticular images,  the  type  of  which  is  furnished  me 
by  my  body. 

I pass  now  to  the  study,  in  bodies  similar  to 
my  own,  of  the  structure  of  that  particular 
image  which  I call  my  body.  I perceive  afferent 
nerves  which  transmit  a disturbance  to  the  nerve 
centres,  then  efferent  nerves  which  start  from  the 
centre,  conduct  the  disturbance  to  the  periphery, 
and  set  in  motion  parts  of  the  body  or  the  body 
as  a whole.  I question  the  physiologist  and  the 
psychologist  as  to  the  purpose  of  both  kinds. 
They  answer  that  as  the  centrifugal  movements 
of  the  nervous  system  can  call  forth  a movement 
of  the  body  or  of  parts  of  the  body,  so  the  centri- 
petal movements,  or  at  legist  some  of  them,  give 
birth  to  the  representation  1 of  the  external  world. 
What  are  we  to  think  of  this  ? 

The  afferent  nerves  are  images,  the  brain  is  an 
image,  the  disturbance  travelling  through  the 
Yetthe  brain  is  sensorY  nerves  and  propagated  in  the 
aSoi^other86  brain  is  an  image  too.  If  the  image 
images.  which  I term  cerebral  disturbance  really 

1 The  word  representation  is  used  throughout  this  book 
in  the  French  sense,  as  meaning  a mental  picture,  which 
mental  picture  is  very  often  perception.  (Translators’  note.) 


4 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


begot  external  images,  it  would  contain  them  in 
one  way  or  another,  and  the  representation  of  the 
whole  material  universe  would  be  implied  in  that 
of  this  molecular  movement.  Now  to  state  this 
proposition  is  enough  to  show  its  absurdity.  The 
brain  is  part  of  the  material  world  ; the  material 
world  is  not  part  of  the  brain.  Eliminate  the 
image  which  bears  the  name  material  world,  and 
you  destroy  at  the  same  time  the  brain  and  the 
cerebral  disturbance  which  are  parts  of  it.  Sup- 
pose, on  the  contrary,  that  these  two  images,  the 
brain  and  the  cerebral  disturbance,  vanish  : ex 
hypo&hesi  you  efface  only  these,  that  is  to  say  very 
little,  an  insignificant  detail  from  an  immense 
picture.  The  picture  in  its  totality,  that  is  to  say 
the  whole  universe,  remains.  To  make  of  the 
brain  the  condition  on  which  the  whole  image 
depends  is  in  truth  a contradiction  in  terms,  since 
the  brain  is  by  hypothesis  a part  of  this  image. 
Neither  nerves  nor  nerve  centres  can,  then,  con- 
dition the  image  of  the  universe. 

Let  us  consider  this  last  point.  Here  are 
external  images,  then  my  body,  and,  lastly,  the 
The  body  is  a changes  brought  about  by  my  body  in 
action  °it  the  surrounding  images.  I see  plainly 
returns5  8113  ^ow  external  images  influence  the  image 
movements,  that  I call  my  body  : they  transmit 

movement  to  it.  And  I also  see  how  this  body 
influences  external  images  : it  gives  back  move- 
ment to  them.  My  body  is,  then,  in  the  aggre- 
gate of  the  material  world,  an  image  which 


CHAP.  I 


REAL  AND  VIRTUAL  ACTION 


5 


acts  like  other  images,  receiving  and  giving  back 
movement,  with,  perhaps,  this  difference  only, 
that  my  body  appears  to  choose,  within  certain 
limits,  the  manner  in  which  it  shall  restore  what 
it  receives.  But  how  could  my  body  in  general, 
and  my  nervous  system  in  particular,  beget  the 
whole  or  a part  of  my  representation  of  the  uni- 
verse ? You  may  sa3^  that  my  body  is  matter, 
or  that  it  is  an  image  : the  word  is  of  no  importance. 
If  it  is  matter,  it  is  a part  of  the  material 
world ; and  the  material  world,  consequently,  exists 
around  it  and  without  it.  If  it  is  an  image,  that 
image  can  give  but  what  has  been  put  into  it, 
and  since  it  is,  by  hypothesis,  the  image  of  my 
body  only,  it  would  be  absurd  to  expect  to  get 
from  it  that  of  the  whole  universe.  My  body, 
an  object  destined  to  move  other  objects,  is,  then,  a 
centre  of  action  ; it  cannot  give  birth  to  a representa- 
tion. 


But  if  my  body  is  an  object  capable  of  exercis- 


ing a genuine  and  therefore  a new  action  upon 
So  the  body  t^ie  surrounding  objects,  it  must  occupy 
privileged  a privileged,  position  in  regard  to  them. 
SrtdW  for  As  a mle’  any  image  influences  other 
of6choiceise  images  m a manner  which  is  determined, 


among 

possible 

reactions. 


and  even  calculable,  through  what  are 
called  the  laws  of  nature.  As  it  has 


not  to  choose,  so  neither  has  it  any  need  to  ex- 
plore the  region  round  about  it,  nor  to  try  its 
hand  at  several  merely  eventual  actions.  The 


6 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


necessary  action  will  take  place  automatically, 
when  its  hour  strikes.  But  I have  supposed  that 
the  office  of  the  image  which  I call  my  body  was 
to  exercise  on  other  images  a real  influence,  and, 
consequently,  to  decide  which  step  to  take  among 
several  which  are  all  materially  possible.  And 
since  these  steps  are  probably  suggested  to  it  by 
the  greater  or  less  advantage  which  it  can  derive 
from  the  surrounding  images,  these  images  must 
display  in  some  way,  upon  the  aspect  which  they 
present  to  my  body,  the  profit  which  my  body 
can  gain  from  them.  In  fact,  I note  that  the  size, 
shape,  even  the  colour,  of  external  objects  is 
modified  according  as  my  body  approaches  or 
recedes  from  them  ; that  the  strength  of  an 
odour,  the  intensity  of  a sound,  increases  or  di- 
minishes with  distance;  finally,  that  this  very 
distance  represents,  above  all,  the  measure  in 
which  surrounding  bodies  are  insured,  in  some 
sort,  against  the  immediate  action  of  my  body. 
In  the  degree  that  my  horizon  widens,  the  images 
which  surround  me  seem  to  be  painted  upon  a 
more  uniform  background  and  become  to  me  more 
indifferent.  The  more  I narrow  this  horizon,  the 
more  the  objects  which  it  circumscribes  space 
themselves  out  distinctly  according  to  the  greater 
or  less  ease  with  which  my  body  can  touch  and 
move  them.  They  send  back,  then,  to  my  body, 
as  would  a mirror,  its  eventual  influence  ; they 
take  rank  in  an  order  corresponding  to  the 
growing  or  decreasing  powers  of  my  body.  The 


CHAP.  I 


REAL  AND  VIRTUAL  ACTION 


7 


objects  which  surround  my  body  reflect  its  possible 
action  upon  them. 

I will  now,  without  touching  the  other  images, 
modify  slightly  that  image  which  I call  my  body. 

In  this  image  I cut  asunder,  in  thought, 
point  to  all  the  afferent  nerves  of  the  cerebro- 
possibie  spinal  system.  What  will  happen  ? 

A few  cuts  with  the  scalpel  have 
severed  a few  bundles  of  fibres  : the  rest  of  the 
universe,  and  even  the  rest  of  my  body,  remain 
what  they  were  before.  The  change  effected  is 
therefore  insignificant.  As  a matter  of  fact,  my 
perception  has  entirely  vanished.  Let  us  con- 
sider more  closely  what  has  just  occurred. 
Here  are  the  images  which  compose  the  universe 
in  general,  then  those  which  are  near  to  my  body, 
and  finally  my  body  itself.  In  this  last  image 
the  habitual  office  of  the  centripetal  nerves  is 
to  transmit  movements  to  the  brain  and  to 
the  cord ; the  centrifugal  nerves  send  back 
this  movement  to  the  periphery.  Section  of  the 
centripetal  nerves  can  therefore  produce  only 
one  intelligible  effect  : that  is,  to  interrupt  the 
current  which  goes  from  the  periphery  to  the 
periphery  by  way  of  the  centre,  and,  conse- 
quently, to  make  it  impossible  for  my  body  to 
extract,  from  among  all  the  things  which  surround 
it,  the  quantity  and  quality  of  movement  neces- 
sary in  order  to  act  upon  them.  Here  is  some- 
thing which  concerns  action,  and  action  alone. 


s 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


Yet  it  is  my  perception  which  has  vanished. 
What  does  this  mean,  if  not  that  my  perception 
displays,  in  the  midst  of  the  image  world,  as 
would  their  outward  reflexion  or  shadow,  the 
eventual  or  possible  actions  of  my  body  ? Now 
the  system  of  images  in  which  the  scalpel  has 
effected  only  an  insignificant  change  is  what  is 
generally  called  the  material  world  ; and,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  which  has  just  vanished  is  * my 
perception  ’ of  matter.  Whence,  provisionally, 
these  two  definitions  : I call  matter  the  aggregate 
of  images,  and  perception  of  matter  these  same 
images  referred  to  the  eventual  action  of  one  particular 
image,  my  body. 

Let  us  go  more  deeply  into  this  reference. 
I consider  my  body,  with  its  centripetal  and  cen- 
The  brain  is  trifugal  nerves,  with  its  nerve  centres. 
with0motor  I know  that  external  objects  make  in 
^thconscious  the  afferent  nerves  a disturbance  which 
perception,  passes  onward  to  the  centres,  that 
the  centres  are  the  theatre  of  very  varied  molecular 
movements,  and  that  these  movements  depend 
on  the  nature  and  position  of  the  objects.  Change 
the  objects,  or  modify  their  relation  to  my  body, 
and  everything  is  changed  in  the  interior  move- 
ments of  my  perceptive  centres.  But  every- 
thing is  also  changed  in  ‘my  perception.’  My 
perception  is,  then,  a function  of  these  molecular 
movements  ; it  depends  upon  them.  But  how 
does  it  depend  upon  them  ? It  will  perhaps  be 


CHAP.  I 


REPRESENTATION 


9 


said  that  it  translates  them,  and  that,  in  the  mam, 
I represent  to  myself  nothing  but  the  molecular 
movements  of  cerebral  substance.  But  how 
should  this  have  any  meaning,  since  the  image 
of  the  nervous  system  and  of  its  internal 
movements  is  only,  by  hypothesis,  that  of  a cer- 
tain material  object,  whereas  I represent  to 
myself  the  whole  material  universe  ? It  is  true 
that  many  philosophers  attempt  to  evade  the  diffi- 
culty. They  show  us  a brain,  analogous  in  its 
essence  to  the  rest  of  the  material  universe,  an 
image,  consequently,  if  the  universe  is  an  image. 
Then,  since  they  want  the  internal  move- 
ments of  this  brain  to  create  or  determine  the 
representation  of  the  whole  material  world — an 
image  infinitely  greater  than  that  of  the  cere- 
bral vibrations — they  maintain  that  these  mole- 
cular movements,  and  movement  in  general, 
are  not  images  like  others,  but  something 
which  is  either  more  or  less  than  an  image — 
in  any  case  is  of  another  nature  than  an  image — 
and  from  which  representation  will  issue  as  by 
miracle.  Thus  matter  is  made  into  something 
radically  different  from  representation,  something 
of  which,  consequently,  we  have  no  image  ; over 
against  it  they  place  a consciousness  empty  of 
images,  of  which  we  are  unable  to  form  any  idea ; 
lastly,  to  fill  consciousness,  they  invent  an  incom- 
prehensible action  of  this  formless  matter  upon 
this  matterless  thought.  But  the  truth  is  that 
the  movements  of  matter  are  very  clear,  regarded 


IO 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


as  images,  and  that  there  is  no  need  to  look  in 
movement  for  anything  more  than  what  we  see 
in  it.  The  sole  difficulty  would  consist  in  bring- 
ing forth  from  these  very  particular  images  the 
infinite  variety  of  representations  ; but  why  seek 
to  do  so,  since  we  all  agree  that  the  cerebral 
vibrations  are  contained  in  the  material  world, 
and  that  these  images,  consequently,  are  only  a 
part  of  the  representation  ? — What  then  are  these 
movements,  and  what  part  do  these  particular 
images  play  in  the  representation  of  the  whole  ? 
The  answer  is  obvious  : they  are,  within  my 
body,  the  movements  intended  to  prepare,  while 
beginning  it,  the  reaction  of  my  body  to  the  action 
of  external  objects.  Images  themselves,  they 
cannot  create  images  ; but  they  indicate  at  each 
moment,  like  a compass  that  is  being  moved 
about,  the  position  of  a certain  given  image, 
my  body,  in  relation  to  the  surrounding  images. 
In  the  totality  of  representation  they  are  very 
little  ; but  they  are  of  capital  importance  for 
that  part  of  representation  which  I call  my 
body,  since  they  foreshadow  at  each  successive 
moment  its  virtual  acts.  There  is  then  only  a 
difference  of  degree — there  can  be  no  difference  in 
kind — between  what  is  called  the  perceptive 
faculty  of  the  brain  and  the  reflex  functions  of 
the  spinal  cord.  The  cord  transforms  into  move- 
ments the  stimulation  received  ; the  brain  prolongs 
it  into  reactions  which  are  merely  nascent  ; 
but,  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  the  function 


CHAP.  I 


REPRESENTATION 


II 


of  the  nerve  substance  is  to  conduct,  to  coordin- 
ate or  to  inhibit  movements.  How  then  does  it 
come  about  that  ‘ my  perception  of  the  universe  ’ 
appears  to  depend  upon  the  internal  movements 
of  the  cerebral  substance,  to  change  when  they 
vary,  and  to  vanish  when  they  cease  ? 

The  difficulty  of  this  problem  is  mainly  due  to 
the  fact  that  the  grey  matter  and  its  modifications 
The  brain  are  regarded  as  things  which  are  suffi- 
ca^ot^rfate  cient  to  themselves  and  might  be  isolated 
images.  from  the  rest  of  the  universe.  Materia- 
lists and  dualists  are  fundamentally  agreed  on 
this  point.  They  consider  certain  molecular  move- 
ments of  the  cerebral  matter  apart  : then,  some 
see  in  our  conscious  perception  a phosphorescence 
which  follows  these  movements  and  illuminates 
their  track  ; for  others,  our  perceptions  succeed 
each  other  like  an  unwinding  scroll  in  a conscious- 
ness which  expresses  continuously,  in  its  own  way, 
the  molecular  vibrations  of  the  cortical  sub- 
stance : in  the  one  case,  as  in  the  other,  our  per- 
ception is  supposed  to  translate  or  to  picture  the 
states  of  our  nervous  system.  But  is  it  possible 
to  conceive  the  nervous  system  as  living  apart 
from  the  organism  which  nourishes  it,  from  the 
atmosphere  in  which  the  organism  breathes,  from 
the  earth  which  that  atmosphere  envelopes,  from 
the  sun  round  which  the  earth  revolves  ? More 
generally,  does  not  the  fiction  of  an  isolated 
material  object  imply  a kind  of  absurdity,  since 
this  object  borrows  its  physical  properties  from 


12 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


the  relations  which  it  maintains  with  all  others, 
and  owes  each  of  its  determinations,  and  conse- 
quently its  very  existence,  to  the  place  which  it 
occupies  in  the  universe  as  a whole  ? Let  us  no 
longer  say,  then, that  our  perceptions  depend  simply 
upon  the  molecular  movements  of  the  cerebral 
mass.  We  must  say  rather  that  they  vary  with 
them,  but  that  these  movements  themselves 
remain  inseparably  bound  up  with  the  rest  of  the 
material  world.  The  question,  then,  is  not  only 
how  our  perceptions  are  connected  with  the 
modifications  of  the  grey  matter.  The  problem 
widens,  and  can  also  be  put  in  much  clearer  terms. 

It  might  be  stated  as  follows : Here  is  a 

system  of  images  which  I term  my  perception 
of  the  universe,  and  which  may  be  entirely 
images  altered  by  a very  slight  change  in 
twonsystems,  a certain  privileged  image,— my  body. 
to  conscious-3  This  image  occupies  the  centre  ; by  it 
ness.  all  the  others  are  conditioned ; at  each 
of  its  movements  everything  changes,  as  though 
by  a turn  of  a kaleidoscope.  Here,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  the  same  images,  but  referred  each  one 
to  itself  ; influencing  each  other  no  doubt,  but 
in  such  a manner  that  the  effect  is  always  in  pro- 
portion to  the  cause  : this  is  what  I term  the 
universe.  The  question  is  : how  can  these  two 
systems  co-exist,  and  why  are  the  same  images 
relatively  invariable  in  the  universe,  and  infinitely 
variable  in  perception  ? The  problem  at  issue 
between  realism  and  idealism,  perhaps  even  be- 


chap.  I REPRESENTATION  13 

tween  materialism  and  spiritualism,  should  be 
stated,  then,  it  seems  to  us,  in  the  following 
terms  : How  is  it  that  the  same  images  can  belong  at 
the  same  time  to  two  different  systems,  the  one  in 
which  each  image  varies  for  itself  and  in  the  well- 
defined  measure  that  it  is  patient  of  the  real  action  of 
surrounding  images,  the  other  in  which  all  change 
for  a single  image,  and  in  the  varying  measure  that 
they  reflect  the  eventual  action  of  this  privileged 
image  ? 

Every  image  is  within  certain  images  and  with- 
out others  ; but  of  the  aggregate  of  images  we 
cannot  say  that  it  is  within  us  or  without  us,  since 
interiority  and  exteriority  are  only  relations 
among  images.  To  ask  whether  the  universe 
exists  only  in  our  thought,  or  outside  of  our 
thought,  is  to  put  the  problem  in  terms  that  are 
insoluble,  even  if  we  suppose  them  to  be  intelli- 
gible ; it  is  to  condemn  ourselves  to  a barren 
discussion,  in  which  the  terms  thought,  being, 
universe,  will  always  be  taken  on  either  hand  in 
entirely  different  senses.  To  settle  the  matter, 
we  must  first  find  a common  ground  on  which 
combatants  may  meet ; and  since  on  both  sides  it 
is  agreed  that  we  can  only  grasp  things  in  the 
form  of  images,  we  must  state  the  problem  in 
terms  of  images,  and  of  images  alone.  Now 
no  philosophical  doctrine  denies  that  the  same 
images  can  enter  at  the  same  time  into  two  dis- 
tinct systems,  one  belonging  to  science,  wherein 
each  image,  related  only  to  itself,  possesses  an 


*4 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


absolute  value ; and  the  other,  the  world  of  con- 
sciousness, wherein  all  the  images  depend  on  a 
central  image,  our  body,  the  variations  of  which 
they  follow.  The  question  raised  between  realism 
and  idealism  then  becomes  quite  clear  : what  are 
the  relations  which  these  two  systems  of  images 
maintain  with  each  other  ? And  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  subjective  idealism  consists  in  deriving  the 
first  system  from  the  second,  materialistic  realism 
in  deriving  the  second  from  the  first. 

The  realist  starts,  in  fact,  from  the  universe, 
that  is  to  say  from  an  aggregate  of  images  gov- 
erned, as  to  their  mutual  relations,  by 
realism  nor  fixed  laws,  in  which  effects  are  in  strict 
able  to  proportion  to  their  causes,  and  of  which 
there  are  two  the  character  is  an  absence  of  centre,  all 

systems. 

the  images  unfolding  on  one  and  the 
same  plane  indefinitely  prolonged.  But  he  is  at 
once  bound  to  recognize  that,  besides  this  system; 
there  are  perceptions,  that  is  to  say,  systems  in 
which  these  same  images  seem  to  depend  on  a single 
one  among  them,  around  which  they  range  them- 
selves on  different  planes,  so  as  to  be  wholly 
transformed  by  the  slightest  modification  of  this 
central  image.  Now  this  perception  is  just  what 
the  idealist  starts  from : in  the  system  of  images 
which  he  adopts  there  is  a privileged  image,  his 
body,  by  which  the  other  images  are  conditioned. 
But  as  soon  as  he  attempts  to  connect  the  present 
with  the  past  and  to  foretell  the  future,  he  is 
obliged  to  abandon  this  central  position,  to  replace 


CHAP.  I 


REALISM  AND  IDEALISM 


15 


all  the  images  on  the  same  plane,  to  suppose  that 
they  no  longer  vary  for  him,  but  for  themselves ; 
and  to  treat  them  as  though  they  made  part  of  a 
system  in  which  every  change  gives  the  exact 
measure  of  its  cause.  On  this  condition  alone  a 
science  of  the  universe  becomes  possible  ; and, 
since  this  science  exists,  since  it  succeeds  in  fore- 
seeing the  future,  its  fundamental  hypothesis  can- 
not be  arbitrary.  The  first  system  alone  is  given 
to  present  experience  ; but  we  believe  in  the 
second,  if  only  because  we  affirm  the  continuity 
of  the  past,  present,  and  future.  Thus  in  idealism, 
as  in  realism,  we  posit  one  of  the  two  systems  and 
seek  to  deduce  the  other  from  it. 

But  in  this  deduction  neither  realism  nor  ideal- 
ism can  succeed,  because  neither  of  the  two  systems 
of  images  is  implied  in  the  other,  and  each  of  them 
is  sufficient  to  itself.  If  you  posit  the  system 
of  images  which  has  no  centre,  and  in  which  each 
element  possesses  its  absolute  dimensions  and 
value,  I see  no  reason  why  to  this  system  should 
accrue  a second,  in  which  each  image  has  an 
undetermined  value,  subject  to  all  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  a central  image.  You  must  then,  to 
engender  perception,  conjure  up  some  deus  ex 
machina,  such  as  the  materialistic  hypothesis  of 
the  epiphenomenal  consciousness,  whereby  you 
choose,  among  all  the  images  that  vary  absolutely 
and  that  you  posited  to  begin  with,  the  one  which 
we  term  our  brain,-  conferring  on  the  internal 
states  of  this  image  the  singular  and  inexplicable 


r6 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


privilege  of  adding  to  itself  a reproduction,  this 
time  relative  and  variable,  of  all  the  others.  It 
is  true  that  you  afterwards  pretend  to  attach  no 
importance  to  this  representation,  to  see  in  it  a 
mere  phosphorescence  which  the  cerebral  vibrations 
leave  behind  them  : as  if  the  cerebral  matter  and 
cerebral  vibrations,  set  in  the  images  which  com- 
pose this  representation,  could  be  of  another  nature 
than  they ! All  realism  is  thus  bound  to  make  per- 
ception an  accident,  and  consequently  a mystery. 
But,  inversely,  if  you  posit  a system  of  unstable 
images  disposed  about  a privileged  centre,  and 
profoundly  modified  by  trifling  displacements  of 
this  centre,  you  begin  by  excluding  the  order  of 
nature,  that  order  which  is  indifferent  to  the  point 
at  which  we  take  our  stand  and  to  the  particular 
end  from  which  we  begin.  You  will  have  to 
bring  back  this  order  by  conjuring  up  in  your  turn 
a deus  ex  machina ; I mean  that  you  will  have  to 
assume,  by  an  arbitrary  hypothesis,  some  sort  of 
pre-established  harmony  between  things  and 
mind,  or,  at  least  (to  use  Kant’s  terms),  between 
sense  and  understanding.  It  is  science  now  that 
will  become  an  accident,  and  its  success  a mys- 
tery.— You  cannot,  then,  deduce  the  first  system 
of  images  from  the  second,  nor  the  second  from 
the  first;  and  these  two  antagonistic  doctrines, 
realism  and  idealism,  as  soon  as  they  decide  to 
enter  the  same  lists,  hurl  themselves  from  opposite 
directions  against  the  same  obstacle. 

If  we  now  look  closely  at  the  two  doctrines, 


CHAP.  I 


REALISM  AND  IDEALISM 


17 


we  shall  discover  in  them  a common  postulate, 

B which  we  may  formulate  thus  : per- 

both  imply  an  ception  has  a wholly  speculative  interest  ; 

postulate,  it  is  i)ure  knowledge,  the  whole  dis- 

perception  cussion  turns  upon  the  importance  to  be 

speculative  attributed  to  this  knowledge  as  com- 
interest. 

pared  with  scientific  knowledge.  The 
one  doctrine  starts  from  the  order  required  by 
science,  and  sees  in  perception  only  a confused  and 
provisional  science.  The  other  puts  perception 
in  the  first  place,  erects  it  into  an  absolute,  and 
then  holds  science  to  be  a symbolic  expression  of 
the  real.  But,  for  both  parties,  to  perceive  means 
above  all  to  know. 

Now  it  is  just  this  postulate  that  we  dispute. 
Even  the  most  superficial  examination  of  the 
structure  of  the  nervous  system  in  the  animal 
series  gives  it  the  lie.  And  it  is  not  possible 
to  accept  it  without  profoundly  obscuring  the 
threefold  problem  of  matter,  consciousness,  and 
their  relation. 

For  if  we  follow,  step  by  step,  the  progress  of 
external  perception  from  the  monera  to  the  higher 
vertebrates,  we  find  that  living  matter. 

But  iacts  7 . b 7 . ’ 

reaiiy  suggest  even  as  a simple  mass  of  protoplasm,  is 
the  opposite  r . 

view.  already  irritable  and  contractile,  that 

Evidence  ...  . 

from  the  it  is  open  to  the  influence  of  external 

structure  and  . . 

evolution  of  stimulation,  and  answers  to  it  by 
mechanical,  physical,  and  chemical  re- 
actions. As  we  rise  in  the  organic  series,  we  find 
a division  of  physiological  labour.  Nerve  cells 


i8 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


appear,  are  diversified,  tend  to  group  themselves 
into  a system;  at  the  same  time,  the  animal 
reacts  by  more  varied  movements  to  external 
stimulation.  But  even  when  the  stimulation  re- 
ceived is  not  at  once  prolonged  into  movement,  it 
appears  merely  to  await  its  occasion ; and  the  same 
impression,  which  makes  the  organism  aware  of 
changes  in  the  environment,  determines  it  or  pre- 
pares it  to  adapt  itself  to  them.  No  doubt  there 
is  in  the  higher  vertebrates  a radical  distinction 
between  pure  automatism,  of  which  the  seat  is 
mainly  in  the  spinal  cord,  and  voluntary  activity, 
which  requires  the  intervention  of  the  brain.  It 
might  be  imagined  that  the  impression  received, 
instead  of  expanding  into  more  movements, 
spiritualizes  itself  into  consciousness.  But  as  soon 
as  we  compare  the  structure  of  the  spinal  cord  with 
that  of  the  brain,  we  are  bound  to  infer  that  there 
is  merely  a difference  of  complication,  and  not  a 
difference  in  kind,  between  the  functions  of  the 
brain  and  the  reflex  activity  of  the  medullary 
system.  For  what  takes  place  in  reflex  action  ? 
The  centripetal  movement  communicated  by  the 
stimulus  is  reflected  at  once,  by  the  intermediary  of 
the  nerve  centres  of  the  spinal  cord,  in  a centrifugal 
movement  determining  a muscular  contraction. 
In  what,  on  the  other  hand,  does  the  function  of 
the  cerebral  system  consist  ? The  peripheral  excita- 
tion, instead  of  proceeding  directly  to  the  motor- 
cells  of  the  spinal  cord  and  impressing  on  the  muscle 
a necessary  contraction,  mounts  first  to  the  brain, 


CHAP.  1 


THE  CHOICE  OF  IMAGES 


19 


and  then  descends  again  to  the  very  same  motor 
cells  of  the  spinal  cord  which  intervened  in  the  reflex 
action.  Now  what  has  it  gained  by  this  round- 
about course,  and  what  did  it  seek  in  the  so-called 
sensory  cells  of  the  cerebral  cortex  ? I do  not  un- 
derstand, I shall  never  understand,  that  it  draws 
thence  a miraculous  power  of  changing  itself  into 
a representation  of  things  ; and  moreover,  I hold 
this  hypothesis  to  be  useless,  as  will  shortly  ap- 
pear. But  what  I do  see  clearly  is  that  the  cells  of 
the  various  regions  of  the  cortex  which  are  termed 
sensory, — cells  interposed  between  the  terminal 
branches  of  the  centripetal  fibres  and  the  motor 
cells  of  the  Rolandic  area, — allow  the  stimulation 
received  to  reach  at  will  this  or  that  motor  mechan- 
ism of  the  spinal  cord,  and  so  to  choose  its  effect. 
The  more  these  intercalated  cells  are  multiplied 
and  the  more  they  project  amoeboid  prolonga- 
tions which  are  probably  capable  of  approaching 
each  other  in  various  ways,  the  more  numerous 
and  more  varied  will  be  the  paths  capable  of 
opening  to  one  and  the  same  disturbance  from  the 
periphery,  and,  consequently,  the  more  systems 
of  movements  will  there  be  among  which  one  and 
the  same  stimulation  will  allow  of  choice.  In  our 
opinion,  then,  the  brain  is  no  more  than  a kind  of 
central  telephonic  exchange  : its  office  is  to  allow 
communication,  or  to  delay  it.  It  adds  nothing 
to  what  it  receives  ; but,  as  all  the  organs  of 
perception  send  it  to  their  ultimate  prolongations, 
and  as  all  the  motor  mechanisms  of  the  spinal 


20 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


cord  and  of  the  medulla  oblongata  have  in  it  their 
accredited  representatives,  it  really  constitutes 
a centre,  where  the  peripheral  excitation  gets  into 
relation  with  this  or  that  motor  mechanism,  chosen 
and  no  longer  prescribed.  On  the  other  hand,  as 
a great  multitude  of  motor  tracks  can  open  simul- 
taneously in  this  substance  to  one  and  the  same 
excitation  from  the  periphery,  this  disturbance  may 
subdivide  to  any  extent,  and  consequently  dissipate 
itself  in  innumerable  motor  reactions  which  are 
merely  nascent.  Hence  the  office  of  the  brain  is 
sometimes  to  conduct  the  movement  received  to  a 
chosen  organ  of  reaction,  and  sometimes  to  open  to 
this  movement  the  totality  of  the  motor  tracks,  so 
that  it  may  manifest  there  all  the  potential  reactions 
with  which  it  is  charged,  and  may  divide  and  so 
disperse.  In  other  words,  the  brain  appears  to  us 
to  be  an  instrument  of  analysis  in  regard  to  the 
movement  received,  and  an  instrument  of  selec- 
tion in  regard  to  the  movement  executed.  But, 
in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  its  office  is  limited 
to  the  transmission  and  division  of  movement. 
And  no  more  in  the  higher  centres  of  the  cortex 
than  in  the  spinal  cord  do  the  nervous  elements 
work  with  a view  to  knowledge  : they  do  but 
indicate  a number  of  possible  actions  at  once,  or 
organize  one  of  them. 

That  is  to  say  that  the  nervous  system  is  in  no 
sense  an  apparatus  which  may  serve  to  fabricate, 
or  even  to  prepare,  representations.  Its  function  is 
to  receive  stimulation,  to  provide  motor  apparatus, 


CHAP.  I 


THE  CHOICE  OF  IMAGES 


21 


and  to  present  the  largest  possible  number  of  these 
apparatuses  to  a given  stimulus.  The  more  it 
develops,  the  more  numerous  and  the  more 
distant  are  the  points  of  space  which  it  brings  into 
relation  with  ever  more  complex  motor  mechan- 
isms. In  this  way  the  scope  which  it  allows  to  our 
action  enlarges  : its  growing  perfection  consists 
in  nothing  else.  But  if  the  nervous  system  is 
thus  constructed,  from  one  end  of  the  animal  series 
to  the  other,  in  view  of  an  action  which  is  less  and 
less  necessary,  must  we  not  think  that  perception, 
of  which  the  progress  is  regulated  by  that  of  the 
nervous  system,  is  also  entirely  directed  towards 
action,  and  not  towards  pure  knowledge  ? And,  if 
this  be  so,  is  not  the  growing  richness  of  this 
perception  likely  to  symbolize  the  wider  range  of 
indetermination  left  to  the  choice  of  the  living 
being  in  its  conduct  with  regard  to  things  ? Let 
us  start,  then,  from  this  indetermination  as  from 
the  true  principle,  and  try  whether  we  cannot  deduce 
from  it  the  possibility,  and  even  the  necessity,  of 
conscious  perception.  In  other  words,  let  us  posit 
that  system  of  closely-linked  images  which  we  call 
the  material  world,  and  imagine  here  and  there, 
within  the  system,  centres  of  real  action,  represented 
by  living  matter  : what  we  mean  to  prove  is 
that  there  must  be,  ranged  round  each  one  of  these 
centres,  images  that  are  subordinated  to  its  posi- 
tion and  variable  with  it  ; that  conscious  percep- 
tion is  hound  to  occur,  and  that,  moreover,  it  is 
possible  to  understand  how  it  arises. 


22 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


We  note,  in  the  first  place,  that  a strict  law  con- 
nects the  amount  of  conscious  perception  with  the 
intensity  of  action  at  the  disposal  of  the 
starTfiromthe  living  being.  If  our  hypothesis  is  well 
perception  founded,  this  perception  appears  at  the 
eventual  precise  moment  when  a stimulation  re- 
indetermtaate  ceived  by  matter  is  not  prolonged  into  a 
necessary  action.  In  the  case  of  a rudi- 
mentary organism,  it  is  true  that  immediate  contact 
with  the  object  which  interests  it  is  necessary  to  pro- 
duce the  stimulation,  and  that  reaction  can  then 
hardly  be  delayed.  Thus,  in  the  lower  organ- 
isms, touch  is  active  and  passive  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  enabling  them  to  recognize  their  prey  and 
seize  it,  to  feel  a danger  and  make  the  effort  to 
avoid  it.  The  various  prolongations  of  the  pro- 
tozoa, the  ambulacra  of  the  echinodermata,  are 
organs  of  movement  as  well  as  of  tactile  percep- 
tion ; the  stinging  apparatus  of  the  coelenterata  is 
an  instrument  of  perception  as  well  as  a means 
of  defence.  In  a word,  the  more  immediate  the 
reaction  is  compelled  to  be,  the  more  must  percep- 
tion resemble  a mere  contact ; and  the  complete 
process  of  perception  and  of  reaction  can  then 
hardly  be  distinguished  from  a mechanical  impul- 
sion followed  by  a necessary  movement.  But  in 
the  measure  that  the  reaction  becomes  more  un- 
certain, and  allows  more  room  for  suspense, 
does  the  distance  increase  at  which  the  animal 
is  sensible  of  the  action  of  that  which  interests  it. 
By  sight,  by  hearing,  it  enters  into  relation  with  an 


CHAP.  I 


THE  CHOICE  OF  IMAGES 


23 


ever  greater  number  of  things,  and  is  subject  to  more 
and  more  distant  influences  ; and,  whether  these 
objects  promise  an  advantage  or  threaten  a 
danger,  both  promises  and  threats  defer  the  date 
of  their  fulfilment.  The  degree  of  independence 
of  which  a living  being  is  master,  or,  as  we  shall 
say,  the  zone  of  indetermination  which  surrounds 
its  activity,  allows,  then,  of  an  a priori  estimate  of 
the  number  and  the  distance  of  the  things  with 
which  it  is  in  relation.  Whatever  this  relation 
may  be,  whatever  be  the  inner  nature  of  percep- 
tion, we  can  affirm  that  its  amplitude  gives  the 
exact  measure  of  the  indetermination  of  the  act 
which  is  to  follow.  So  that  we  can  formulate 
this  law  : perception  is  master  of  space  in  the  exact 
measure  in  which  action  is  master  of  time. 

But  why  does  this  relation  of  the  organism  to 
more  or  less  distant  objects  take  the  particular  form 
what  then  °f  conscious  perception  ? We  have 
consdous-f  examined  what  takes  place  in  the  or- 
Preiiminary  ganized  body,  we  have  seen  movements 
hints.  transmitted  or  inhibited,  metamor- 
phosed into  accomplished  actions  or  broken  up 
into  nascent  actions.  These  movements  appear 
to  us  to  concern  action,  and  action  alone  ; they 
remain  absolutely  foreign  to  the  process  of  repre- 
sentation. We  then  considered  action  itself,  and 
the  indetermination  which  surrounds  it  and  is 
implied  in  the  structure  of  the  nervous  system, 
— an  indetermination  to  which  this  system  seems 
to  point  much  more  than  to  representation. 


24 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


From  this  indetermination,  accepted  as  a fact, 
we  have  been  able  to  infer  the  necessity 
of  a perception,  that  is  to  say,  of  a variable 
relation  between  the  living  being  and  the  more  or 
less  distant  influence  of  the  objects  which  interest 
it.  How  is  it  that  this  perception  is  consciousness, 
and  why  does  everything  happen  as  if  this  con- 
sciousness were  born  of  the  internal  movements  of 
the  cerebral  substance  ? 

To  answer  this  question,  we  will  first  simplify 
considerably  the  conditions  under  which  conscious 
perception  takes  place.  In  fact,  there  is  no 
perception  which  is  not  full  of  memories. 
With  the  immediate  and  present  data  of 
our  senses  we  mingle  a thousand  details  out  of 
our  past  experience.  In  most  cases  these 
memories  supplant  our  actual  perceptions,  of 
which  we  then  retain  only  a few  hints,  thus 
using  them  merely  as  ‘ signs  ’ that  recall  to 
us  former  images.  The  convenience  and  the 
rapidity  of  perception  are  bought  at  this  price  ; 
but  hence  also  springs  every  kind  of  illusion.  Let 
us,  for  the  purposes  of  study,  substitute  for  this 
perception,  impregnated  with  our  past,  a per- 
ception that  a consciousness  would  have  if  it 
were  supposed  to  be  ripe  and  full-grown,  yet 
confined  to  the  present  and  absorbed,  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  else,  in  the  task  of  moulding 
itself  upon  the  external  object. — It  may  be 
urged  that  this  is  an  arbitrary  hypothesis,  and 
that  such  an  ideal  perception,  obtained  by  the 


CHAP.  I 


THE  CHOICE  OF  IMAGES 


25 


elimination  of  individual  accidents,  has  no  corre- 
spondence with  reality. — But  we  hope  to  show 
that  the  individual  accidents  are  merely  grafted 
on  to  this  impersonal  perception,  which  is  at  the 
very  root  of  our  knowledge  of  things  ; and  that 
just  because  philosophers  have  overlooked  it, 
because  they  have  not  distinguished  it  from  that 
which  memory  adds  to  or  subtracts  from  it,  they 
have  taken  perception  as  a whole  for  a kind  of 
interior  and  subjective  vision,  which  would  then 
differ  from  memory  only  by  its  greater  intensity. 
This  will  be  our  first  hypothesis.  But  it  leads 
naturally  to  another.  However  brief  we  suppose 
any  perception  to  be,  it  always  occupies  a certain 
duration,  and  involves  consequently  an  effort 
of  memory  which  prolongs  one  into  another  a 
plurality  of  moments.  As  we  shall  endeavour 
to  show,  even  the  ‘subjectivity’  of  sensible  quali- 
ties consists  above  all  else  in  a kind  of  contraction 
of  the  real,  effected  by  our  memory.  In  short, 
memory  in  these  two  forms,  covering  as  it  does  with 
a cloak  of  recollections  a core  of  immediate  percep- 
tion, and  also  contracting  a number  of  external 
moments  into  a single  internal  moment,  con- 
stitutes the  principal  share  oi  individual  con- 
sciousness in  perception,  the  subjective  side  of  the 
knowledge  of  things  ; and,  since  we  must  neglect 
this  share  in  order  to  make  our  idea  clearer,  we 
shall  go  too  far  along  the  path  we  have  chosen. 
But  we  shall  only  have  to  retrace  our  steps 
and  to  correct,  especially  by  bringing  memory 


26 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


back  again,  whatever  may  be  excessive  in  our 
conclusions.  What  follows,  therefore,  must  be 
regarded  as  only  a schematic  rendering,  and  we 
ask  that  perception  should  be  provisionally 
understood  to  mean  not  my  concrete  and  com- 
plex perception — that  which  is  enlarged  by 
memories  and  offers  always  a certain  breadth  of 
duration — but  a pure  perception,  I mean  a percep- 
tion which  exists  in  theory  rather  than  in  fact  and 
would  be  possessed  by  a being  placed  where 
I am,  living  as  I live,  but  absorbed  in  the 
present  and  capable,  by  giving  up  every  form 
of  memory,  of  obtaining  a vision  of  matter  both 
immediate  and  instantaneous.  Adopting  this 
hypothesis,  let  us  consider  how  conscious  per- 
ception may  be  explained. 

To  deduce  consciousness  would  be,  indeed,  a bold 
undertaking  ; but  it  is  really  not  necessary  here,  be- 
Conscious  cause  by  p ositing  the  material  world  we  as- 

butCour°power  sume  an  aggregate  of  images,  and  more- 
reflectea^rom  over  because  it  is  impossible  to  assume 
though  by  a anything  else.  No  theory  of  matter  escapes 
mirror.  this  necessity.  Reduce  matter  to  atoms 
in  motion  : these  atoms,  though  denuded  of  physical 
qualities,  are  determined  only  in  relation  to  an 
eventual  vision  and  an  eventual  contact,  the  one 
without  light  and  the  other  without  materiality. 
Condense  atoms  into  centres  of  force,  dissolve 
them  into  vortices  revolving  in  a continuous  fluid  : 
this  fluid,  these  movements,  these  centres,  can 
themselves  be  determined  only  in  relation  to  an 


CHAP.  I 


THE  CHOICE  OF  IMAGES 


27 


impotent  touch,  an  ineffectual  impulsion,  a colour- 
less light ; they  are  still  images.  It  is  true  that 
an  image  may  be  without  being  perceived ; it 
may  be  present  without  being  represented  ; and 
the  distance  between  these  two  terms,  presence 
and  representation,  seems  just  to  measure 
the  interval  between  matter  itself  and  our  con- 
scious perception  of  matter.  But  let  us  examine 
the  point  more  closely,  and  see  in  what  this 
difference  consists.  If  there  were  more  in  the 
second  term  than  in  the  first,  if, in  order  to  pass  from 
presence  to  representation,  it  were  necessary  to  add 
something,  the  barrier  would  indeed  be  insuperable, 
and  the  passage  from  matter  to  perception  would 
remain  wrapt  in  impenetrable  mystery.  It  would 
not  be  the  same  if  it  were  possible  to  pass  from  the 
first  term  to  the  second  by  way  of  diminution,  and 
if  the  representation  of  an  image  were  less  than  its 
presence  ; for  it  would  then  suffice  that  the  images 
present  should  be  compelled  to  abandon  some- 
thing of  themselves  in  order  that  their  mere  pre- 
sence should  convert  them  into  representations. 
Now,  here  is  the  image  which  I call  a material 
object ; I have  the  representation  of  it.  How 
comes  it  that  it  does  not  appear  to  be  in  itself 
that  which  it  is  for  me  ? It  is  because,  being  bound 
up  with  all  other  images,  it  is  continued  in  those 
which  follow  it,  just  as  it  prolonged  those  which  pre- 
ceded it.  To  transform  its  existence  into  represen- 
tation, it  would  be  enough  to  suppress  what  follows 
it,  what  precedes  it,  and  also  all  that  fills  it,  and  to 


28 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


retain  only  its  external  crust,  its  superficial  skin. 
That  which  distinguishes  it  as  a present  image,  as  an 
objective  reality,  from  a represented  image  is  the 
necessity  which  obliges  it  to  act  through  every  one 
of  its  points  upon  all  the  points  of  all  other  images, 
to  transmit  the  whole  of  what  it  receives,  to  oppose 
to  every  action  an  equal  and  contrary  reaction,  to 
be,  in  short,  merely  a road  by  which  pass,  in  every 
direction,  the  modifications  propagated  through- 
out the  immensity  of  the  universe.  I should  con- 
vert it  into  representation  if  I could  isolate  it, 
especially  if  I could  isolate  its  shell.  Represen- 
tation is  there,  but  always  virtual — being  neutral- 
ized, at  the  very  moment  when  it  might  become 
actual,  by  the  obligation  to  continue  itself  and  to 
lose  itself  in  something  else.  To  obtain  this  con- 
version from  the  virtual  to  the  actual  it  would  be 
necessary,  not  to  throw  more  light  on  the  object, 
but  on  the  contrary  to  obscure  some  of  its  aspects, 
to  diminish  it  by  the  greater  part  of  itself,  so  that 
the  remainder,  instead  of  being  encased  in  its  sur- 
roundings as  a thing,  should  detach  itself  from  them 
as  a picture.  Now  if  living  beings  are,  within  the  uni- 
verse, just  ‘ centres  of  indetermination, ’ and  if  the 
degree  of  this  indetermination  is  measured  by  the 
number  and  rank  of  their  functions,  we  can  con- 
ceive that  their  mere  presence  is  equivalent  to  the 
suppression  of  all  those  parts  of  objects  in  which 
their  functions  find  no  interest.  They  allow  to 
pass  through  them,  so  to  speak,  those  external  in- 
fluences which  are  indifferent  to  them  ; the  others 


CHAP.  I 


THE  CHOICE  OF  IMAGES 


29 


isolated,  become  ‘ perceptions  ’ by  their  very 
isolation.  Everything  thus  happens  for  us  as 
though  we  reflected  back  to  surfaces  the  light  which 
emanates  from  them,  the  light  which,  had  it  passed 
on  unopposed,  would  never  have  been  revealed. 
The  images  which  surround  us  will  appear  to  turn 
towards  our  body  the  side,  emphasized  by  the 
light  upon  it,  which  interests  our  body.  They 
will  detach  from  themselves  that  which  we  have 
arrested  on  its  way,  that  which  we  are  capable 
of  influencing.  Indifferent  to  each  other  because 
of  the  radical  mechanism  which  binds  them  to- 
gether, they  present  each  to  the  others  all  their 
sides  at  once  : which  means  that  they  act  and 
react  mutually  by  all  their  elements,  and  that  none 
of  them  perceives  or  is  perceived  consciously. 
Suppose,  on  the  contrary,  that  they  encounter  some- 
where a certain  spontaneity  of  reaction : their 
action  is  so  far  diminished,  and  this  diminution  of 
their  action  is  just  the  representation  which 
we  have  of  them.  Our  representation  of  things 
would  thus  arise  from  the  fact  that  they  are 
thrown  back  and  reflected  by  our  freedom. 

When  a ray  of  light  passes  from  one  medium 
into  another,  it  usually  traverses  it  with  a 
change  of  direction.  But  the  respective  den- 
sities of  the  two  media  may  be  such  that,  for  a 
given  angle  of  incidence,  refraction  is  no  longer 
possible.  Then  we  have  total  reflexion.  The 
luminous  point  gives  rise  to  a virtual  image  which 
symbolizes,  so  to  speak,  the  fact  that  the  luminous 


30 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAF.  I 


rays  cannot  pursue  their  way.  Perception  is  just  a 
phenomenon  of  the  same  kind.  That  which  is 
given  is  the  totality  of  the  images  of  the  material 
world,  with  the  totality  of  their  internal  elements. 
But  if  we  suppose  centres  of  real,  that  is  to  say 
of  spontaneous,  activity,  the  rays  which  reach  it, 
and  which  interest  that  activity,  instead  of  pass- 
ing through  those  centres,  will  appear  to  be  re- 
flected and  thus  to  indicate  the  outlines  of  the  object 
which  emits  them.  There  is  nothing  positive 
here,  nothing  added  to  the  image,  nothing  new. 
The  objects  merely  abandon  something  of  their 
real  action  in  order  to  manifest  their  virtual 
action — that  is  to  say,  in  the  main,  the  eventual 
influence  of  the  living  being  upon  them.  Per- 
ception therefore  resembles  those  phenomena  of 
reflexion  which  result  from  an  impeded  refraction  ; 
it  is  like  an  effect  of  mirage. 

This  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  there  is  for  images 
merely  a difference  of  degree,  and  not  of  kind,  be- 
so  that  tween  being  and  being  consciously  per- 

represents-  • 

tion  results  ceived.  The  reality  of  matter  consists 
omission  of  in  the  totality  of  its  elements  and  of 
totality  of0  their  actions  of  every  kind.  Our  re- 
has no  presentation  of  matter  is  the  measure 

interest  (or  • • • 

our  needs,  of  our  possible  action  upon  bodies  : it 
results  from  the  discarding  of  what  has  no  interest 
for  our  needs,  or  more  generally  for  our  functions. 
In  one  sense  we  might  say  that  the  perception 
of  any  unconscious  material  point  whatever,  in 
its  instantaneousness,  is  infinitely  greater  and 


CHAP.  I 


THE  CHOICE  OF  IMAGES 


31 


more  complete  than  ours,  since  this  point  gathers 
and  transmits  the  influences  of  all  the  points  of  the 
material  universe,  whereas  our  consciousness  only 
attains  to  certain  parts  and  to  certain  aspects  of 
those  parts.  Consciousness, — in  regard  to  external 
perception, — lies  in  just  this  choice.  But  there 
is,  in  this  necessary  poverty  of  our  conscious  per- 
ception, something  that  is  positive,  that  foretells 
spirit  : it  is,  in  the  etymological  sense  of  the  word, 
discernment. 

The  whole  difficulty  of  the  problem  that  occu- 
pies us  comes  from  the  fact  that  we  imagine 
perception  to  be  a kind  of  photographic 
limited  by  view  of  things,  taken  from  a fixed  point 

tli6  degree  of  • a 

indeterminate  by  that  special  apparatus  which  is  called 
living  being  an  organ  of  perception — a photograph 
is  master  ot.  woup[  then  be  developed  in  the 

brain-matter  by  some  unknown  chemical  and 
psychical  process  of  elaboration.  But  is  it  not 
obvious  that  the  photograph,  if  photograph  there 
be,  is  already  taken,  already  developed  in  the  very 
heart  of  things  and  at  all  the  points  of  space  ? 
No  metaphysics,  no  physics  even,  can  escape  this 
conclusion.  Build  up  the  universe  with  atoms : 
each  of  them  is  subject  to  the  action,  variable  in 
quantity  and  quality  according  to  the  distance, 
exerted  on  it  by  all  material  atoms.  Bring  in 
Faraday’s  centres  of  force : the  lines  of  force  emitted 
in  every  direction  from  every  centre  bring  to  bear 
upon  each  the  influences  of  the  whole  material 
world.  Call  up  the  Leibnizian  monads : each  is 


32 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


the  mirror  of  the  universe.  All  philosophers,  then, 
agree  on  this  point.  Only  if  when  we  consider 
any  other  given  place  in  the  universe  we  can 
regard  the  action  of  all  matter  as  passing 
through  it  without  resistance  and  without  loss, 
and  the  photograph  of  the  whole  as  trans- 
lucent : here  there  is  wanting  behind  the  plate 
the  black  screen  on  which  the  image  could  be 
shown.  Our  ‘ zones  of  indetermination  ’ play 
in  some  sort  the  part  of  the  screen.  They  add 
nothing  to  what  is  there ; they  effect  merely 
this  : that  the  real  action  passes  through,  the 
virtual  action  remains. 

This  is  no  hypothesis.  We  content  ourselves 
with  formulating  data  with  which  no  theory  of 
perception  can  dispense.  For  no  philosopher 

can  begin  the  study  of  external  perception  with- 
out assuming  the  possibility  at  least  of  a material 
world,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  main,  the  virtual 
perception  of  all  things.  From  this  merely 

possible  material  mass  he  will  then  isolate  the 
particular  object  which  I call  my  body,  and,  in 
this  body,  centres  of  perception  : he  will  show 
me  the  disturbance  coming  from  a certain  point 
in  space,  propagating  itself  along  the  nerves  and 
reaching  the  centres.  But  here  I am  confronted 
by  a transformation  scene  from  fairyland.  The 
material  world  which  surrounds  the  body,  the  body 
which  shelters  the  brain,  the  brain  in  which  we 
distinguish  centres,  he  abruptly  dismisses  ; and,  as 
by  a magician’s  wand,  he  conjures  up,  as  a thing 


chap,  i THE  CHOICE  OF  IMAGES  33 

entirely  new  the  representation  of  what  he  began 
by  postulating.  This  representation  he  drives 
out  of  space,  so  that  it  may  have  nothing  in 
common  with  the  matter  from  which  he  started. 
As  for  matter  itself,  he  would  fain  go  without  it, 
but  cannot,  because  its  phenomena  present 
relatively  to  each  other  an  order  so  strict  and 
so  indifferent  as  to  the  point  of  origin  chosen, 
that  this  regularity  and  this  indifference  really 
constitute  an  independent  existence.  So  that 
he  must  resign  himself  to  retaining  at  least  the 
phantasm  of  matter.  But  then  he  manages  to 
deprive  it  of  all  the  qualities  which  give  it  life. 
In  an  amorphous  space  he  carves  out  moving 
figures  ; or  else  (and  it  comes  to  nearly  the  same 
thing),  he  imagines  relations  of  magnitude  which 
adjust  themselves  one  to  another,  mathematical 
functions  which  go  on  evolving  and  developing 
their  own  content  : representation,  laden  with 
the  spoils  of  matter,  thenceforth  displays  itself 
freely  in  an  unextended  consciousness. — But 
it  is  not  enough  to  cut  out,  it  is  necessary  to 
sew  the  pieces  together.  You  must  now  explain 
how  those  qualities  which  you  have  detached 
from  their  material  support  can  be  joined  to  it 
again.  Each  attribute  which  you  take  away 
from  matter  widens  the  interval  between  repre- 
sentation and  its  object.  If  you  make  matter 
unextended,  how  will  it  acquire  extension  ? If 
you  reduce  it  to  homogeneous  movement,  whence 
arises  quality  ? Above  all,  how  are  we  to  imagine 

x> 


34 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


a relation  between  a thing  and  its  image,  between 
matter  and  thought,  since  each  of  these  terms 
possesses,  by  definition,  only  that  which  is  lack- 
ing to  the  other  ? Thus  difficulties  spring  up 
beneath  our  feet ; and  every  effort  that  you  make 
to  dispose  of  one  of  them  does  but  resolve  it  into 
many  more.  What  then  do  we  ask  of  you  ? 
Merely  to  give  up  your  magician’s  wand,  and  to 
continue  along  the  path  on  which  you  first  set 
out.  You  showed  us  external  images  reaching 
the  organs  of  sense,  modifying  the  nerves,  propa- 
gating their  influence  in  the  brain.  Well,  follow 
the  process  to  the  end.  The  movement  will  pass 
through  the  cerebral  substance  (although  not 
without  having  tarried  there),  and  will  then 
expand  into  voluntary  action.  There  you  have 
the  whole  mechanism  of  perception.  As  for 
perception  itself,  in  so  far  as  it  is  an  image,  you 
are  not  called  upon  to  retrace  its  genesis,  since 
you  posited  it  to  begin  with,  and  since  moreover 
no  other  course  was  open  to  you.  In  assuming 
the  brain,  in  assuming  the  smallest  portion  of 
matter,  did  you  not  assume  the  totality  of 
images  ? What  you  have  to  explain,  then,  is  not  how 
perception  arises,  but  how  it  is  limited,  since  it 
should  be  the  image  of  the  whole,  and  is  in  fact 
reduced  to  the  image  of  that  which  interests  you. 
But  if  it  differs  from  the  mere  image,  precisely 
in  that  its  parts  range  themselves  with  reference  to 
a variable  centre,  its  limitation  is  easy  to  under- 
stand : unlimited  de  jure,  it  confines  itself  de  facto 


chap,  i REPRESENTATION  AND  ACTION  35 

to  indicating  the  degree  of  indetermination  allowed 
to  the  acts  of  the  special  image  which  you  call 
your  body.  And,  inversely,  it  follows  that  the 
indetermination  of  the  movements  of  your  body, 
such  as  it  results  from  the  structure  of  the  grey 
matter  of  the  brain,  gives  the  exact  measure  of  the 
extent  of  your  perception.  It  is  no  wonder,  then, 
that  everything  happens  as  though  your  perception 
were  a result  of  the  internal  motions  of  the  brain, 
and  issued  in  some  sort  from  the  cortical  centres. 
It  could  not  actually  come  from  them,  since  the 
brain  is  an  image  like  others,  enveloped  in  the 
mass  of  other  images,  and  it  would  be  absurd 
that  the  container  should  issue  from  the  content. 
But  since  the  structure  of  the  brain  is  like  the 
detailed  plan  of  the  movements  among  which 
you  have  the  choice,  and  since  that  part  of  the 
external  images  which  appears  to  return  upon 
itself  in  order  to  constitute  perception  includes 
precisely  all  the  points  of  the  universe  which 
these  movements  could  affect,  conscious  per- 
ception and  cerebral  movement  are  in  strict  corre- 
spondence. The  reciprocal  dependence  of  these 
two  terms  is  therefore  simply  due  to  the  fact  that 
both  are  functions  of  a third,  which  is  the  indeter- 
mination of  the  will. 

Take,  for  example,  a luminous  point  P,  of  which 
The  image,  the  rays  impinge  on  the  different  parts 

then,  is  7 , . , . . , . . ^ 

formed  and  a,  b,  c,  ot  the  retina.  At  this  point  P 

perceived  in  . , ,.  ...  r 

the  object,  science  localizes  vibrations  of  a cer- 
tain. tain  amplitude  and  duration.  At  the 


36 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


same  point  P consciousness  perceives  light. 
We  propose  to  show,  in  the  course  of  this 
study,  that  both  are  right ; and  that  there  is  no 
essential  difference  between  the  light  and  the 
movements,  provided  we  restore  to  movement 
the  unity,  indivisibility,  and  qualitative  hetero- 
geneity denied  to  it  by  abstract  mechanics ; 
provided  also  that  we  see  in  sensible  qualities 
contractions  effected  by  our  memory.  Science 
and  consciousness  would  then  coincide  in  the  in- 
stantaneous. For  the  moment  all  we  need  say, 
without  examining  too  closely  into  the  meaning 
of  the  words,  is  that  the  point  P sends  to  the 
retina  vibrations  of  light.  What  happens  then  ? 
If  the  visual  image  of  the  point  P were  not 
already  given,  we  should  indeed  have  to  seek  the 
manner  in  which  it  had  been  engendered,  and 
should  soon  be  confronted  by  an  insoluble 
problem.  But,  whatever  we  do,  we  cannot  avoid 
assuming  it  to  begin  with  : the  sole  question 
is,  then,  to  know  how  and  why  this  image  is 
chosen  to  form  part  of  my  perception,  while  an 
infinite  number  of  other  images  remain  ex- 
cluded from  it.  Now  I see  that  the  vibrations 
transmitted  from  the  point  P to  the  various  parts 
of  the  retina  are  conducted  to  the  sub-cortical 
and  cortical  optic  centres,  often  to  other  centres 
as  well,  and  that  these  centres  sometimes  transmit 
them  to  motor  mechanisms,  sometimes  provision- 
ally arrest  them.  The  nervous  elements  concerned 
are,  therefore,  what  give  efficacy  to  the  disturbance 


CHAP.  I 


REPRESENTATION  AND  ACTION 


37 


received;  they  symbolize  the  indetermination  of 
the  will ; on  their  soundness  this  indetermination 
depends  ; and  consequently  any  injury  to  these 
elements,  by  diminishing  our  possible  action, 
diminishes  perception  in  the  same  degree.  In  other 
words,  if  there  exist  in  the  material  world  places 
where  the  vibrations  received  are  not  mechanically 
transmitted,  if  there  are,  as  we  said,  zones  of 
indetermination,  these  zones  must  occur  along  the 
path  of  what  is  termed  the  sensori-motor  process  ; 
and  hence  all  must  happen  as  though  the  rays 
P a,  P b,  Pc  were  perceived  along  this  path  and 
afterwards  projected  into  P.  Further,  while 
the  indetermination  is  something  which  escapes 
experiment  and  calculation,  this  is  not  the  case 
with  the  nervous  elements  by  which  the  impres- 
sion is  received  and  transmitted.  These  elements 
are  the  special  concern  of  the  physiologist  and 
the  psychologist ; on  them  all  the  details  of  exter- 
nal perception  would  seem  to  depend  and  by  them 
they  may  be  explained.  So  we  may  say,  if  we  like, 
that  the  disturbance,  after  having  travelled  along 
these  nervous  elements,  after  having  gained  the 
centre,  there  changes  into  a conscious  image  which 
is  subsequently  exteriorized  at  the  point  P.  But, 
when  we  so  express  ourselves,  we  merely  bow  to 
the  exigencies  of  the  scientific  method ; we  in 
no  way  describe  the  real  process.  There  is  not, 
in  fact,  an  unextended  image  which  forms  itself 
in  consciousness  and  then  projects  itself  into  P. 
The  truth  is  that  the  point  P,  the  rays  which  it 


38 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


emits,  the  retina  and  the  nervous  elements  af- 
fected, form  a single  whole  ; that  the  luminous 
point  P is  a part  of  this  whole  ; and  that  it  is 
really  in  P,  and  not  elsewhere,  that  the  image  of  P 
is  formed  and  perceived. 

When  we  represent  things  to  ourselves  in  this 
manner,  we  do  but  return  to  the  simple  convictions 
of  common  sense.  We  all  of  us  began  by  believ- 
ing that  we  grasped  the  very  object,  that  we  per- 
ceived it  in  itself  and  not  in  us.  When  philoso- 
phers disdain  an  idea  so  simple  and  so  close  to 
reality,  it  is  because  the  intra-cerebral  process, — 
that  diminutive  part  of  perception, — appears  to 
them  the  equivalent  of  the  whole  of  percep- 
tion. If  we  suppress  the  object  perceived  and 
keep  the  internal  process,  it  seems  to  them  that 
the  image  of  the  object  remains.  And  their  belief 
is  easily  explained  : there  are  many  conditions, 
such  as  hallucination  and  dreams,  in  which  images 
arise  that  resemble  external  perception  in  all 
their  details.  As,  in  such  cases,  the  object  has 
disappeared  while  the  brain  persists,  he  holds 
that  the  cerebral  phenomenon  is  sufficient  for 
the  production  of  the  image.  But  it  must  not 
be  forgotten  that  in  all  psychical  states  of  this 
kind  memory  plays  the  chief  part.  Now,  we 
shall  try  to  show  later  that,  when  perception,  as 
we  understand  it,  is  once  admitted,  memory  must 
arise,  and  that  this  memory  has  not,  any  more 
than  perception  itself,  a cerebral  state  as  its  true 
and  complete  condition.  But,  without  as  yet  enter- 


CHAP.  I 


REPRESENTATION  AND  ACTION 


39 


ing  upon  the  examination  of  these  two  points,  we 
will  content  ourselves  with  a very  simple  observa- 
tion, which  has  indeed  no  novelty.  In  many 
people  who  are  blind  from  birth  the  visual  centres 
are  intact ; yet  they  live  and  die  without  having 
formed  a single  visual  image.  Such  an  image, 
therefore,  cannot  appear  unless  the  external  object 
has,  once  at  least,  played  its  part  : it  must,  once 
at  any  rate,  have  been  part  and  parcel  with  repre- 
sentation. Now  this  is  what  we  claim  and  for  the 
moment  all  that  we  require,  for  we  are  dealing  here 
with  pure  perception,  and  not  with  perception 
complicated  by  memory.  Reject  then  the  share  of 
memory,  consider  perception  in  its  unmixed  state, 
and  you  will  be  forced  to  recognize  that  there 
is  no  image  without  an  object.  But,  from  the 
moment  that  you  thus  posit  the  intra-cerebral 
processes  besides  the  external  object  which  causes 
them,  we  can  clearly  see  how  the  image  of  that 
object  is  given  with  it  and  in  it : how  the  image 
should  arise  from  the  cerebral  movement  we  shall 
never  understand. 

When  a lesion  of  the  nerves  or  of  the  centres 
interrupts  the  passage  of  the  nerve  vibration, 

perception  is  to  that  extent  diminished. 
^uthenbM.i^ry  Need  we  be  surprised  ? The  office  of 
perception  by  the  nervous  system  is  to  utilize  that 
appeal  to  vibration,  to  convert  it  into  practical 

activity.  . 

deeds,  really  or  virtually  accomplished. 
If,  for  one  reason  or  another,  the  disturbance  cannot 
pass  along,  it  would  be  strange  if  the  correspond- 


40 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


ing  perception  still  took  place,  since  this  percep- 
tion would  then  connect  our  body  with  points 
of  space  which  no  longer  directly  invite  it 
to  make  a choice.  Sever  the  optic  nerve  of  an 
animal : the  vibrations  issuing  from  the  luminous 
point  can  no  longer  be  transmitted  to  the  brain 
and  thence  to  the  motor  nerves  ; the  thread,  of 
which  the  optic  nerve  is  a part  and  which  binds  the 
external  object  to  the  motor  mechanisms  of  the 
animal,  is  broken  : visual  perception  has  there- 
fore become  impotent,  and  this  very  impotence 
is  unconsciousness.  That  matter  should  be  per- 
ceived without  the  help  of  a nervous  system, 
and  without  organs  of  sense,  is  not  theoretically 
inconceivable  ; but  it  is  practically  impossible, 
because  such  perception  would  be  of  no  use.  It 
would  suit  a phantom,  not  a living,  and  therefore 
acting,  being.  We  are  too  much  inclined  to  regard 
the  living  body  as  a world  within  a world,  the  ner- 
vous system  as  a separate  being,  of  which  the  func- 
tion is,  first,  to  elaborate  perceptions,  and  then  to 
create  movements.  The  truth  is  that  my  nervous 
system,  interposed  between  the  objects  which 
affect  my  body  and  those  which  I can  influence, 
is  a mere  conductor,  transmitting,  sending  back, 
or  inhibiting  movement.  This  conductor  is 
composed  of  an  enormous  number  of  threads 
which  stretch  from  the  periphery  to  the  centre, 
and  from  the  centre  to  the  periphery.  As  many 
threads  as  pass  from  the  periphery  to  the 
centre,  so  many  points  of  space  are  there  able 


CHAP.  X 


REPRESENTATION  AND  ACTION 


41 


to  make  an  appeal  to  my  will  and  to  put,  so 
to  speak,  an  elementary  question  to  my  motor 
activity.  Every  such  question  is  what  is  termed 
a perception.  Thus  perception  is  diminished  by 
one  of  its  elements  each  time  one  of  the  threads 
termed  sensory  is  cut,  because  some  part  of  the 
external  object  then  becomes  unable  to  appeal  to 
activity  ; and  it  is  also  diminished  whenever  a 
stable  habit  has  been  formed,  because  this  time 
the  ready-made  response  renders  the  question 
unnecessary.  What  disappears  in  either  case  is 
the  apparent  reflexion  of  the  stimulus  upon  itself, 
the  return  of  the  light  on  the  image  whence  it 
comes  ; or  rather  that  dissociation,  that  discern- 
ment, whereby  the  perception  is  disengaged  from 
the  image.  We  may  therefore  say  that  while  the 
detail  of  perception  is  moulded  exactly  upon  that  of 
the  nerves  termed  sensory,  perception  as  a whole 
has  its  true  and  final  explanation  in  the  tendency 
of  the  body  to  movement. 

The  cause  of  the  general  illusion  on  this  point 
lies  in  the  apparent  indifference  of  our  movements 
to  the  stimulation  which  excites  them.  It  seems  that 
the  movement  of  my  body  in  order  to  reach  and  to 
modify  an  object  is  the  same,  whether  I have  been 
told  of  its  existence  by  the  ear  or  whether  it  has 
been  revealed  to  me  by  sight  or  touch.  My 
motor  activity  thus  appears  as  a separate  entity,  a 
sort  of  reservoir  whence  movements  issue  at  will, 
always  the  same  for  the  same  action,  whatever 
the  kind  of  image  which  has  called  it  into  being. 


42 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


But  the  truth  is  that  the  character  of  movements 
which  are  externally  identical  is  internally  differ- 
ent, according  as  they  respond  to  a visual,  an  au- 
ditory or  a tactile  impression.  Suppose  I perceive 
a multitude  of  objects  in  space  ; each  of  them, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  a visual  form,  solicits  my  acti- 
vity. Now  I suddenly  lose  my  sight.  No  doubt  I 
still  have  at  my  disposal  the  same  quantity  and 
the  same  quality  of  movements  in  space  ; but 
these  movements  can  no  longer  be  co-ordinated 
to  visual  impressions  ; they  must  in  future  follow 
tactile  impressions,  for  example,  and  a new 
arrangement  will  take  place  in  the  brain. 
The  protoplasmic  expansions  of  the  motor  nervous 
elements  in  the  cortex  will  be  in  relation,  now, 
with  a much  smaller  number  of  the  nervous 
elements  termed  sensory.  My  activity  is  then 
really  diminished,  in  the  sense  that  although  I can 
produce  the  same  movements,  the  occasion  comes 
more  rarely  from  the  external  objects.  Con- 
sequently, the  sudden  interruption  of  optical 
continuity  has  brought  with  it,  as  its  essential  and 
profound  effect,  the  suppression  of  a large  part 
of  the  queries  or  demands  addressed  to  my  activity. 
Now  such  a query  or  demand  is,  as  we  have 
seen,  a perception.  Here  we  put  our  finger  on 
the  mistake  of  those  who  maintain  that  percep- 
tion springs  from  the  sensory  vibration  properly 
so  called,  and  not  from  a sort  of  question  ad- 
dressed to  motor  activity.  They  sever  this  motor 
activity  from  the  perceptive  process ; and,  as 


CHAP.  I 


REPRESENTATION  AND  ACTION 


43 


it  appears  to  survive  the  loss  of  perception, 
they  conclude  that  perception  is  localized  in  the 
nervous  elements  termed  sensory.  But  the  truth 
is  that  perception  is  no  more  in  the  sensory 
centres  than  in  the  motor  centres  ; it  measures 
the  complexity  of  their  relations,  and  is,  in 
fact,  where  it  appears  to  be. 

Psychologists  who  have  studied  infancy  are  well 
aware  that  our  representation  is  at  first  impersonal, 
in  perception  little  by  little,  and  as  a result  of 

homHie  experience,  does  it  adopt  our  body  as  a 
periphery—  centre  and  become  our  representation. 
the^entfe—  The  mechanism  of  this  process  is,  more- 
the  body ; over,  easy  to  understand.  As  my  body 
moves  in  space,  all  the  other  images  vary, 
while  that  image,  my  body,  remains  invariable.  I 
must  therefore  make  it  a centre,  to  which  I refer  all 
the  other  images.  My  belief  in  an  external  world 
does  not  come,  cannot  come,  from  the  fact  that 
I project  outside  myself  sensations  that  are  unex- 
tended : how  could  these  sensations  ever  acquire  ex- 
tension, and  whence  should  I get  the  notion  of  ex- 
teriority ? But  if  we  allow  that,  as  experience  testi- 
fies, the  aggregate  of  images  is  given  to  begin  with, 
I can  see  clearly  how  my  body  comes  to  occupy, 
within  this  aggregate,  a privileged  position.  And 
I understand  also  whence  arises  the  notion  of  in- 
feriority and  exteriority,  which  is,  to  begin  with, 
merely  the  distinction  between  my  body  and  other 
bodies.  For  if  you  start  from  my  body,  as  is  usually 
done,  you  will  never  make  me  understand  how 


44 


MATTER  AMD  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


impressions  received  on  the  surface  of  my  body, 
impressions  which  concern  that  body  alone,  are  able 
to  become  for  me  independent  objects  and  form 
an  external  world.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  all 
images  are  posited  at  the  outset,  my  body  will 
necessarily  end  by  standing  out  in  the  midst  of 
them  as  a distinct  thing,  since  they  change  unceas- 
ingly, and  it  does  not  vary.  The  distinction  between 
the  inside  and  the  outside  will  then  be  only  a dis- 
tinction between  the  part  and  the  whole.  There  is, 
first  of  all,  the  aggregate  of  images  ; and  then,  in 
this  aggregate,  there  are  ‘ centres  of  action,’  from 
which  the  interesting  images  appear  to  be  reflected : 
thus  perceptions  are  born  and  actions  made  ready. 
My  body  is  that  which  stands  out  as  the  centre  of 
these  perceptions  ; my  personality  is  the  being  to 
which  these  actions  must  be  referred.  The  whole 
subject  becomes  clear  if  we  travel  thus  from  the  peri- 
phery to  the  centre,  as  the  child  does,  and  as  we 
ourselves  are  invited  to  do  by  immediate  experience 
and  by  common  sense . On  the  contrary  everything 
becomes  obscure,  and  problems  are  multiplied  on 
all  sides,  if  we  attempt,  with  the  theorists,  to  travel 
from  the  centre  to  the  periphery. — Whence  arises, 
then,  this  idea  of  an  external  world  constructed  arti- 
ficially, piece  by  piece,  out  of  unextended  sensa- 
tions, though  we  can  neither  understand  how 
they  come  to  form  an  extended  surface,  nor  how 
they  are  subsequently  projected  outside  our  body  ? 
Why  insist,  in  spite  of  appearances,  that  I should 
go  from  my  conscious  self  to  my  body,  then 


CHAP.  I 


THE  IMAGE  AND  REALITY 


45 


from  my  body  to  other  bodies,  whereas  in  fact  I 
place  myself  at  once  in  the  material  world  in 
general,  and  then  gradually  cut  out  within 
it  the  centre  of  action  which  I shah  come 
to  call  my  body  and  to  distinguish  from  all 
others  ? — There  are  so  many  illusions  gathered 
round  this  belief  in  the  originally  unex- 
tended character  of  our  external  perception ; there 
are,  in  the  idea  that  we  project  outside  our- 
selves states  which  are  purely  internal,  so  many 
misconceptions,  so  many  lame  answers  to  badly 
stated  questions,  that  we  cannot  hope  to  throw 
light  on  the  whole  subject  at  once.  We  believe 
that  light  will  increase,  as  we  show  more  clearly, 
behind  these  illusions,  the  metaphysical  error  which 
confounds  the  unbroken  extensity  with  homo- 
geneous space,  and  the  psychological  error  which 
confounds  ‘ pure  perception  ’ with  memory.  But 
these  illusions  are,  nevertheless,  connected  with  real 
facts,  which  we  may  here  indicate  in  order  to 
correct  their  interpretation. 

The  first  of  these  facts  is  that  our  senses  require 
education.  Neither  sight  nor  touch  is  able  at 
Objection  the  outset  to  localize  impressions.  A 
th^so-caiied  series  °f  comparisons  and  inductions  is 
ofthetenses  necessary,  whereby  we  gradually  co- 
in?ofsuchan’  ordinate  one  impression  with  another, 
education.  Hence  philosophers  may  jump  to  the 
belief  that  sensations  are  in  their  essence  inexten- 
sive,  and  that  they  constitute  extensity  by  their 
juxtaposition.  But  is  it  not  clear  that,  upon  the 


46 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


hypothesis  just  advanced,  our  senses  are  equally  in 
need  of  education, — not  of  course  in  order  to  accom- 
modate themselves  to  things,  but  to  accommodate 
themselves  to  each  other  ? Here,  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  images,  there  is  a certain  image  which  I term 
my  body,  and  of  which  the  virtual  action  reveals 
itself  by  an  apparent  reflexion  of  the  surround- 
ing images  upon  themselves.  Suppose  there  are 
so  many  kinds  of  possible  action  for  my  body: 
there  must  be  an  equal  number  of  systems  of 
reflexion  for  other  bodies  ; and  each  of  these 
systems  will  be  just  what  is  perceived  by  one  of 
my  senses.  My  body,  then,  acts  like  an  image 
which  reflects  others,  and  which,  in  so  doing, 
analyses  them  along  lines  corresponding  to  the 
different  actions  which  it  can  exercise  upon  them. 
And,  consequently,  each  of  the  qualities  perceived 
in  the  same  object  by  my  different  senses  symbolizes 
a particular  direction  of  my  activity,  a par- 
ticular need.  Now,  will  all  these  perceptions  of 
a body  by  my  different  senses  give  me,  when 
united,  the  complete  image  of  that  body  ? Cer- 
tainly not,  because  they  have  been  gathered  from 
a larger  whole.  To  perceive  all  the  influences 
from  all  the  points  of  all  bodies  would  be  to  de- 
scend to  the  condition  of  a material  object.  Con- 
scious perception  signifies  choice,  and  consciousness 
mainly  consists  in  this  practical  discernment.  The 
diverse  perceptions  of  the  same  object,  given  by 
my  different  senses,  will  not,  then,  when  put  to- 
gether, reconstruct  the  complete  image  of  the 


chap,  i THE  IMAGE  AND  REALITY  47 

object ; they  will  remain  separated  from  each  other 
by  intervals  which  measure,  so  to  speak,  the  gaps 
in  my  needs.  It  is  to  fill  these  intervals  that  an 
education  of  the  senses  is  necessary.  The  aim  of 
this  education  is  to  harmonize  my  senses  with 
each  other,  to  restore  between  their  data  a 
continuity  which  has  been  broken  by  the  discon- 
tinuity of  the  needs  of  my  body,  in  short  to  re- 
construct, as  nearly  as  may  be,  the  whole  of  the 
material  object.  This,  on  our  hypothesis,  ex- 
plains the  need  for  an  education  of  the  senses. 
Now  let  us  compare  it  with  the  preceding  explana- 
tion.— In  the  first,  unextended  sensations  of  sight 
combine  with  unextended  sensations  of  touch  and 
of  the  other  senses,  to  give,  by  their  synthesis, 
the  idea  of  a material  object.  But,  to  begin  with, 
it  is  not  easy  to  see  how  these  sensations  can  ac- 
quire extension,  nor  how,  above  all,  when  exten- 
sion in  general  has  been  acquired,  we  can  explain 
in  particular  the  preference  of  a given  one  of  these 
sensations  for  a given  point  of  space.  And  then 
we  may  ask  by  what  happy  agreement,  in  virtue 
of  what  pre-established  harmony,  do  these  sen- 
sations of  different  kinds  co-ordinate  themselves 
to  form  a stable  object,  henceforth  solidified, 
common  to  my  experience  and  to  that  of  all  men, 
subject,  in  its  relation  to  other  objects,  to  those 
inflexible  rules  which  we  call  the  laws  of  nature  ? 
In  the  second,  ‘ the  data  of  our  different  senses  ’ 
are,  on  the  contrary,  the  very  qualities  of  things, 
perceived  first  in  the  things  rather  than  in  us  : 


48 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


is  it  surprising  that  they  come  together,  since 
abstraction  alone  has  separated  them  ? — On  the 
first  hypothesis,  the  material  object  is  nothing  of 
all  that  we  perceive  : you  put  on  one  side  the  con- 
scious principle  with  the  sensible  qualities,  and 
on  the  other  a matter  of  which  you  can  predicate 
nothing,  which  you  define  by  negations  because 
you  have  begun  by  despoiling  it  of  all  that  reveals 
it  to  us.  In  the  second,  an  ever-deepening  know- 
ledge of  matter  becomes  possible.  Far  from 
depriving  matter  of  anything  perceived,  we  must 
on  the  contrary  bring  together  all  sensible  quali- 
ties, restore  their  relationship,  and  re-establish 
among  them  the  continuity  broken  by  our  needs. 
Our  perception  of  matter  is,  then,  no  longer 
either  relative  or  subjective,  at  least  in  principle, 
and  apart,  as  we  shall  see  presently,  from 
affection  and  especially  from  memory ; it  is 
merely  dissevered  by  the  multiplicity  of  our 
needs. — On  the  first  hypothesis,  spirit  is  as  un- 
knowable as  matter,  for  you  attribute  to  it  the 
undefinable  power  of  evoking  sensations  we  know 
not  whence,  and  of  projecting  them,  we  know 
not  why,  into  a space  where  they  will  form  bodies. 
On  the  second,  the  part  played  by  consciousness 
is  clearly  defined  : consciousness  means  virtual 
action  ; and  the  forms  acquired  by  mind,  those 
which  hide  the  essence  of  spirit  from  us,  should, 
with  the  help  of  this  second  principle,  be  removed 
as  so  many  concealing  veils.  Thus,  on  our  hypo- 
thesis, we  begin  to  see  the  possibility  of  a clearer 


CHAP,  r 


THE  IMAGE  AND  REALITY 


49 


distinction  between  spirit  and  matter,  and  of  a 
reconciliation  between  them.  But  we  will  leave 
this  first  point  and  come  to  the  second. 

The  second  fact  brought  forward  consists  in 
what  was  long  termed  the  ‘ specific  energy  of  the 
nerves.’  We  know  that  stimulation  of 

Objection  . 

drawn  from  the  optic  nerve  by  an  external  shock  or 

the  so-called  . .. 

•specific  by  an  electnc  current  will  produce  a 
nerves’—  visual  sensation,  and  that  this  same 
electric  current  applied  to  the  acoustic  or 
to  the  glosso-pharyngeal  nerve  will  cause  a sound 
to  be  heard  or  a taste  to  be  perceived.  From 
these  very  particular  facts  have  been  deduced  two 
very  general  laws  : that  different  causes  acting  on 
the  same  nerve  excite  the  same  sensation ; and 
that  the  same  cause,  acting  on  different  nerves, 
provokes  different  sensations.  And  from  these 
laws  it  has  been  inferred  that  our  sensations  are 
merely  signals,  and  that  the  office  of  each  sense  is  to 
translate  into  its  own  language  homogeneous  and 
mechanical  movements  occurring  in  space.  Hence, 
as  a conclusion,  the  idea  of  cutting  our  perception 
into  two  distinct  parts,  thenceforward  incapable 
of  uniting  : on  the  one  hand  homogeneous  move- 
ments in  space,  and  on  the  other  unextended  sen- 
sations in  consciousness.  Now,  it  is  not  our  part 
to  enter  into  an  examination  of  the  physiological 
problems  raised  by  the  interpretation  of  the  two 
laws  : in  whatever  way  these  laws  are  understood, 
whether  the  specific  energy  is  attributed  to  the 
nerves  or  whether  it  is  referred  to  the  centres,  insur- 


50 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


mountable  difficulties  arise.  But  the  very  existence 
of  the  laws  themselves  appears  more  and  more 
problematical.  Lotze  himself  already  suspected 
a fallacy  in  them.  He  awaited,  before  putting 
faith  in  them,  ‘ sound  waves  which  should  give  to 
the  eye  the  sensation  of  light,  or  luminous  vibra- 
tions which  should  give  to  the  ear  a sound.’ 1 
The  truth  is  that  all  the  facts  alleged  can  be  brought 
back  to  a single  type  : the  one  stimulus  capable 
of  producing  different  sensations,  the  multiple 
stimuli  capable  of  inducing  the  same  sensation, 
are  either  an  electric  current  or  a mechanical 
cause  capable  of  determining  in  the  organ  a modi- 
fication of  electrical  equilibrium.  Now  we  may 
well  ask  whether  the  electrical  stimulus  does  not 
include  different  components,  answering  objec- 
tively to  sensations  of  different  kinds,  and  whether 
the  office  of  each  sense  is  not  merely  to  extract 
from  the  whole  the  component  that  concerns  it. 
We  should  then  have,  indeed,  the  same  stimuli 
giving  the  same  sensations,  and  different  stimuli 
provoking  different  sensations.  To  speak  more 
precisely,  it  is  difficult  to  admit,  for  instance,  that 
applying  an  electrical  stimulus  to  the  tongue 
would  not  occasion  chemical  changes  ; and  these 
changes  are  what,  in  all  cases,  we  term  tastes. 
On  the  other  hand,  while  the  physicist  has  been 
able  to  identify  light  with  an  electro-magnetic 
disturbance,  we  may  say,  inversely,  that  what  he 


1 Lotze,  Metaphysic,  Oxford,  1887,  vol.  ii,  p.  206. 


chap,  i THE  IMAGE  AND  AFFECTIVE  SENSATION  5 1 

calls  here  an  electro-magnetic  disturbance  is  light, 
so  that  it  is  really  light  that  the  optic  nerve  per- 
ceives objectively  when  subject  to  electrical 
stimulus.  The  doctrine  of  specific  energy  appears 
to  be  nowhere  more  firmly  based  than  in  the  case 
of  the  ear  : nowhere  also  has  the  real  existence  of 
the  thing  perceived  become  more  probable.  We 
will  not  insist  on  these  facts,  because  they  will 
be  found  stated  and  exhaustively  discussed  in  a 
recent  work.1  We  will  only  remark  that  the 
sensations  here  spoken  of  are  not  images  per- 
ceived by  us  outside  our  body,  but  rather  affec- 
tions localized  within  the  body.  Now  it  results  from 
the  nature  and  use  of  our  body,  as  we  shall  see, 
that  each  of  its  so-called  sensory  elements  has 
its  own  real  action,  which  must  be  of  the  same 
kind  as  its  virtual  action  on  the  external  objects 
which  it  usually  perceives ; and  thus  we  can 
understand  how  it  is  that  each  of  the  sensory 
nerves  appears  to  vibrate  according  to  a fixed 
manner  of  sensation.  But  to  elucidate  this  point 
we  must  consider  the  nature  of  affection.  Thus 
we  are  led  to  the  third  and  last  argument  which 
we  have  to  examine. 

This  third  argument  is  drawn  from  the  fact 
that  we  pass  by  insensible  degrees  from  the  repre- 
sentative state  which  occupies  space,  to  the 
affective  state  which  appears  to  be  unextended. 

1 Schwarz,  Das  W ahrnehmungsproblem,  Leipzig,  1892,  pp- 
313  and  seq. 


52  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  i 

Hence  it  is  inferred  that  all  sensation  is 
naturally  and  necessarily  unextended, 

Objections  ,,  , . ..  . , 

drawn  from  so  that  extensity  is  superimposed  upon 

the  so-called  _ ,•  , ,,  , 

•subjectivity’  sensation,  and  the  process  of  percep- 
of  affective  , • • , ....  . 

states.—  tion  consists  m an  exteriorization  of 

affective  state  internal  states.  The  psychologist  starts, 
whereat  is  in  fact,  from  his  body,  and,  as  the  im- 
pressions received  at  the  periphery  of 
this  body  seem  to  him  sufficient  for  the  recon- 
stitution of  the  entire  material  universe,  to 
his  body  he  at  first  reduces  the  universe.  But 
this  first  position  is  not  tenable ; his  body 
has  not,  and  cannot  have,  any  more  or  any 
less  reality  than  all  other  bodies.  So  he  must 
go  farther,  follow  to  the  end  the  consequences 
of  his  principle,  and,  after  having  narrowed  the 
universe  to  the  surface  of  the  living  body, 
contract  this  body  itself  into  a centre  which  he 
will  end  by  supposing  unextended.  Then,  from 
this  centre  will  start  unextended  sensations,  which 
will  swell,  so  to  speak,  will  grow  into  extensity, 
and  will  end  by  giving  extension  first  to  his 
body,  and  afterwards  to  all  other  material  objects. 
But  this  strange  supposition  would  be  impos- 
sible if  there  were  not,  in  point  of  fact,  between 
images  and  ideas,  the  former  extended  and  the 
latter  unextended,  a series  of  intermediate  states, 
more  or  less  vaguely  localized,  which  are  the 
affective  states.  Our  understanding,  yielding  to 
its  customary  illusion,  poses  the  dilemma,  that 
a thing  either  is  or  is  not  extended ; and  as  the 


chap,  i THE  IMAGE  AND  AFFECTIVE  SENSATION  53 

affective  state  participates  vaguely  in  extension, 
is  in  fact  imperfectly  localized,  we  conclude  that 
this  state  is  absolutely  unextended.  But  then  the 
successive  degrees  of  extension,  and  extensity  itself, 
will  have  to  be  explained  by  I know  not  what  ac- 
quired property  of  unextended  states  ; the  history 
of  perception  will  become  that  of  internal  unex- 
tended states  which  acquire  extension  and  project 
themselves  without.  Shall  we  put  the  argument 
in  another  form  ? There  is  hardly  any  percep- 
tion which  may  not,  by  the  increase  of  the  action 
of  its  object  upon  our  body,  become  an  affection, 
and,  more  particularly,  pain.  Thus  we  pass  in- 
sensibly from  the  contact  with  a pin  to  its  prick. 
Inversely  the  decreasing  pain  coincides  with  the 
lessening  perception  of  its  cause,  and  exteriorizes 
itself,  so  to  speak,  into  a representation.  So  it  does 
seem,  then,  as  if  there  were  a difference  of  degree 
and  not  of  nature  between  affection  and  perception. 
Now,  the  first  is  intimately  bound  up  with  my  per- 
sonal existence  : what,  indeed,  would  be  a pain 
detached  from  the  subject  that  feels  it  ? It  seems 
therefore  that  it  must  be  so  with  the  second,  and 
that  external  perception  is  formed  by  projecting 
into  space  an  affection  which  has  become  harm- 
less. Realists  and  idealists  are  agreed  in  this 
method  of  reasoning.  The  latter  see  in  the 
material  universe  nothing  but  a synthesis  of  sub- 
jective and  unextended  states  ; the  former  add 
that,  behind  this  synthesis,  there  is  an  indepen- 
dent reality  corresponding  to  it  ; but  both  con- 


54 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


elude,  from  the  gradual  passage  of  affection  to 
representation,  that  our  representation  of  the 
material  universe  is  relative  and  subjective,  and 
that  it  has,  so  to  speak,  emerged  from  us,  rather 
than  that  we  have  emerged  from  it. 

Before  criticizing  this  questionable  interpretation 
of  an  unquestionable  fact,  we  may  show  that  it  does 
not  succeed  in  explaining,  or  even  in  throwing  light 
upon,  the  nature  either  of  pain  or  of  perception. 
That  affective  states,  essentially  bound  up  with 
my  personality,  and  vanishing  if  I disappear, 
should  acquire  extensity  by  losing  intensity, 
should  adopt  a definite  position  in  space,  and 
build  up  a firm,  solid  experience,  always  in  accord 
with  itself  and  with  the  experience  of  other 
men — this  is  very  difficult  to  realize.  Whatever 
we  do,  we  shall  be  forced  to  give  back  to  sen- 
sations, in  one  form  or  another,  first  the  exten- 
sion and  then  the  independence  which  we  have 
tried  to  do  without.  But,  what  is  more,  affection, 
on  this  hypothesis,  is  hardly  clearer  than  repre- 
sentation. For  if  it  is  not  easy  to  see  how  affec- 
tions, by  diminishing  in  intensity,  become 
representations,  neither  can  we  understand  how 
the  same  phenomenon,  which  was  given  at  first 
as  perception,  becomes  affection  by  an  increase 
of  intensity.  There  is  in  pain  something  positive 
and  active,  which  is  ill  explained  by  saying,  as 
do  some  philosophers,  that  it  consists  in  a con- 
fused representation.  But  still  this  is  not  the 
principal  difficulty.  That  the  gradual  augmen- 


CHAP.  I 


NATURE  OF  AFFECTIVE  SENSATION  55 


tation  of  the  stimulus  ends  by  transforming  per- 
ception into  pain,  no  one  will  deny ; it  is  none 
the  less  true  that  this  change  arises  at  a definite 
moment : why  at  this  moment  rather  than  at 
another  ? and  what  special  reason  brings  about 
that  a phenomenon  of  which  I was  at  first  only  an 
indifferent  spectator  suddenly  acquires  for  me  a 
vital  interest  ? Therefore,  on  this  hypothesis 
I fail  to  see  either  why,  at  a given  moment,  a dim- 
inution of  intensity  in  the  phenomenon  confers 
on  it  a right  to  extension  and  to  an  apparent 
independence;  or  why  an  increase  of  intensity 
should  create,  at  one  moment  rather  than  at 
another,  this  new  property,  the  source  of  positive 
action,  which  is  called  pain. 

Let  us  return  now  to  our  hypothesis,  and  show 
that  affection  must,  at  a given  moment,  arise  out 
Real  of  the  image.  We  shall  thus  under- 
ofpafnTiUs  stand  how  it  is  that  we  pass  from  a 
unavailing  perception  which  has  extensity  to  an 
effort  affection  which  is  believed  to  be  unex- 
tended. But  some  preliminary  remarks  on  the 
real  significance  of  pain  are  indispensable. 

When  a foreign  body  touches  one  of  the  pro- 
longations of  the  amoeba,  that  prolongation  is 
retracted;  every  part  of  the  protoplasmic  mass 
is  equally  able  to  receive  a stimulation  and  to 
react  against  it ; perception  and  movement  being 
here  blended  in  a single  property, — contrac- 
tility. But,  as  the  organism  grows  more  com- 
plex, there  is  a division  of  labour ; functions 


56 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap,  r 


become  differentiated,  and  the  anatomical  ele- 
ments thus  determined  forego  their  independence. 
In  such  an  organism  as  our  own,  the  nerve  fibres 
termed  sensory  are  exclusively  empowered  to 
transmit  stimulation  to  a central  region  whence  the 
vibration  will  be  passed  on  to  motor  elements. 
It  would  seem  then  that  they  have  abandoned 
individual  action  to  take  their  share,  as  outposts, 
in  the  manoeuvres  of  the  whole  body.  But  none 
the  less  they  remain  exposed,  singly,  to  the  same 
causes  of  destruction  which  threaten  the  organ- 
ism as  a whole ; and  while  this  organism  is  able  to 
move,  and  thereby  to  escape  a danger  or  to  repair 
a loss,  the  sensitive  element  retains  the  relative 
immobility  to  which  the  division  of  labour  con- 
demns it.  Thence  arises  pain,  which,  in  our  view, 
is  nothing  but  the  effort  of  the  damaged  element 
to  set  things  right, — a kind  of  motor  tendency  in 
a sensory  nerve.  Every  pain,  then,  must  consist 
in  an  effort, — an  effort  which  is  doomed  to  be 
unavailing.  Every  pain  is  a local  effort,  and  in 
its  very  isolation  lies  the  cause  of  its  impotence  ; 
because  the  organism,  by  reason  of  the  solidarity 
of  its  parts,  is  able  to  move  only  as  a whole. 
It  is  also  because  the  effort  is  local  that  pain  is 
entirely  disproportioned  to  the  danger  incurred 
by  the  living  being.  The  danger  may  be  mortal 
and  the  pain  slight ; the  pain  may  be  unbearable 
(as  in  toothache)  and  the  danger  insignificant. 
There  is  then,  there  must  be,  a precise  moment 
when  pain  intervenes  : it  is  when  the  interested 


CHAP.  I 


NATURE  OF  AFFECTIVE  SENSATION  57 


part  of  the  organism,  instead  of  accepting  the 
stimulation,  repels  it.  And  it  is  not  merely  a dif- 
ference of  degree  that  separates  perception  from 
affection,  but  a difference  in  kind. 

Now,  we  have  considered  the  living  body  as  a 
kind  of  centre  whence  is  reflected  on  the  surround- 
ing objects  the  action  which  these  objects  exercise 
upon  it  : in  that  reflexion  external  perception 
consists.  But  this  centre  is  not  a mathematical 
point ; it  is  a body,  exposed,  like  all  natural  bodies, 
to  the  action  of  external  causes  which  threaten 
to  disintegrate  it.  We  have  just  seen  that  it 
resists  the  influence  of  these  causes.  It  does  not 
merely  reflect  action  received  from  without  ; it 
struggles,  and  thus  absorbs  some  part  of  this  action. 
Here  is  the  source  of  affection.  We  might  there- 
fore say,  metaphorically,  that  while  perception 
measures  the  reflecting  power  of  the  body,  affection 
measures  its  power  to  absorb. 

But  this  is  only  a metaphor.  We  must  con- 
sider the  matter  more  carefully,  in  order  to  under- 
Agee^  stand  clearly  that  the  necessity  of  affec- 
PMceptfonin  ti°n  follows  from  the  very  existence  of 
insteaVof eal  perception.  Perception,  understood  as 
virtual  action.  we  understand  it,  measures  our  possible 
action  upon  things,  and  thereby,  inversely,  the 
possible  action  of  things  upon  us.  The  greater 
the  body’s  power  of  action  (symbolized  by  a higher 
degree  of  complexity  in  the  nervous  system),  the 
wider  is  the  field  that  perception  embraces.  The 
distance  which  separates  our  body  from  an  object 


58  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  i 

perceived  really  measures,  therefore,  the  greater  or 
less  imminence  of  a danger,  the  nearer  or  more 
remote  fulfilment  of  a promise.  And,  conse- 
quently, our  perception  of  an  object  distinct  from 
our  body,  separated  from  our  body  by  an  interval, 
never  expresses  anything  but  a virtual  action. 
But  the  more  the  distance  decreases  between  this 
object  and  our  body  (the  more,  in  other  words, 
the  danger  becomes  urgent  or  the  promise  immedi- 
ate), the  more  does  virtual  action  tend  to  pass  into 
real  action.  Suppose  the  distance  reduced  to  zero, 
that  is  to  say  that  the  object  to  be  perceived 
coincides  with  our  body,  that  is  to  say  again, 
that  our  body  is  the  object  to  be  perceived.  Then 
it  is  no  longer  virtual  action,  but  real  action,  that 
this  specialized  perception  will  express : and  this  is 
exactly  what  affection  is.  Our  sensations  are,  then, 
to  our  perceptions  that  which  the  real  action  of  our 
body  is  to  its  possible  or  virtual  action.  Its  virtual 
action  concerns  other  objects,  and  is  manifested 
within  those  objects  ; its  real  action  concerns 
itself,  and  is  manifested  within  its  own  sub- 
stance. Everything  then  will  happen  as  if,  by 
a true  return  of  real  and  virtual  actions  to  their 
points  of  application  or  of  origin,  the  external 
images  were  reflected  by  our  body  into  surrounding 
space,  and  the  real  actions  arrested  by  it  within 
itself.  And  that  is  why  its  surface,  the  common 
limit  of  the  external  and  the  internal,  is  the  only 
portion  of  space  which  is  both  perceived  and 
felt. 


chap,  i THE  IMAGE,  APART  FROM  SENSATION  59 

That  is  to  say,  once  more,  that  my  perception  is 
outside  my  body,  and  my  affection  within  it. 
Just  as  external  objects  are  perceived  by  me 
where  they  are,  in  themselves  and  not  in  me, 
so  my  affective  states  are  experienced  there  where 
they  occur,  that  is,  at  a given  point  in  my  body. 
Consider  the  system  of  images  which  is  called  the 
material  world.  My  body  is  one  of  them. 
Around  this  image  is  grouped  the  representation, 
i.e.  its  eventual  influence  on  the  others.  Within 
it  occurs  affection,  i.e.  its  actual  effort  upon 
itself.  Such  is  indeed  the  fundamental  differ- 
ence which  every  one  of  us  naturally  makes 
between  an  image  and  a sensation.  When  we  say 
that  the  image  exists  outside  us,  we  signify  by 
this  that  it  is  external  to  our  body.  When  we 
speak  of  sensation  as  an  internal  state,  we  mean 
that  it  arises  within  in  our  body.  And  this  is 
why  we  affirm  that  the  totality  of  perceived  images 
subsists,  even  if  our  body  disappears,  whereas 
we  know  that  we  cannot  annihilate  our  body  with- 
out destroying  our  sensations. 

Hence  we  begin  to  see  that  we  must  correct,  at 
least  in  this  particular,  our  theory  of  pure  percep- 
tion. We  have  argued  as  though  our 

That  is  to  . ° ? 

say  pure  perception  were  a part  of  the  images, 

perception  . . 

exists  only  in  detached,  as  such,  from  their  entirety ; as 

theory  ; in  . . . ’ 

fact  it  is  though,  expressing  the  virtual  action  of 

always  mixed  , ^ 

with  afiec-  the  object  upon  our  body,  or  of  our  body 
upon  the  object,  perception  merely  iso- 
lated from  the  total  object  that  aspect  of  it  which 


6o 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


interests  us.  But  we  have  to  take  into  account  the 
fact  that  our  body  is  not  a mathematical  point  in 
space,  that  its  virtual  actions  are  complicated  by 
and  impregnated  with  real  actions,  or,  in  other 
words,  that  there  is  no  perception  without  affection. 
Affection  is,  then,  that  part  or  aspect  of  the  inside  of 
our  body  which  we  mix  with  the  image  of  external 
bodies ; it  is  what  we  must  first  of  all  subtract  from 
perception  to  get  the  image  in  its  purity.  But  the 
psychologist  who  shuts  his  eyes  to  the  difference 
of  function  and  nature  between  perception  and 
sensation, — the  latter  involving  a real  action, 
and  the  former  a merely  possible  action, — can 
only  find  between  them  a difference  of  degree. 
Because  sensation  (on  account  of  the  confused 
effort  which  it  involves)  is  only  vaguely  loca- 
lized, he  declares  it  unextended,  and  thence  makes 
sensation  in  general  the  simple  element  from  which 
we  obtain  by  composition  all  external  images.  The 
truth  is  that  affection  is  not  the  primary  matter 
of  which  perception  is  made  ; it  is  rather  the 
impurity  with  which  perception  is  alloyed. 

Here  we  grasp,  at  its  origin,  the  error  which 
leads  the  psychologist  to  consider  sensation  as 
unextended  and  perception  as  an  aggregate  of 
sensations.  This  error  is  reinforced,  as  we  shall 
see,  by  illusions  derived  from  a false  conception  of 
the  role  of  space  and  of  the  nature  of  extensity. 
But  it  has  also  the  support  of  misinterpreted  facts, 
which  we  must  now  examine. 

It  appears,  in  the  first  place,  as  if  the  localiza- 


chap,  i the  IMAGE,  APART  FROM  SENSATION  6l 

tion  of  an  affective  sensation  in  one  part  of  the 
why  affec-  body  were  a matter  of  gradual  training, 
t^be'entkefy 4 A certain  time  elapses  before  the  child 
unextended.  can  -j:ouc]1  with  the  finger  the  precise 

point  where  it  has  been  pricked. — The  fact  is 
indisputable  ; but  all  that  can  be  concluded  from 
it  is  that  some  tentative  essays  are  required  to 
co-ordinate  the  painful  impressions  on  the  skin, 
which  has  received  the  prick,  with  the  impressions 
of  the  muscular  sense  which  guides  the  movement 
of  arm  and  hand.  Our  internal  affections,  like 
our  external  perceptions,  are  of  different  kinds. 
These  kinds,  like  those  of  perception,  are  discon- 
tinuous, separated  by  intervals  which  are  filled  up 
in  the  course  of  education.  But  it  does  not  at  all 
follow  that  there  is  not,  for  each  affection,  an 
immediate  localization  of  a certain  kind,  a local 
colour  which  is  proper  to  it.  We  may  go  further  : 
if  the  affection  has  not  this  local  colour  at  once,  it 
will  never  have  it.  For  all  that  education  can  do 
is  to  associate  with  the  actual  affective  sensation 
the  idea  of  a certain  potential  perception  of  sight 
and  touch,  so  that  a definite  affection  may  evoke 
the  image  of  a visual  or  tactile  impression,  equally 
definite.  There  must  be,  therefore,  in  this  affec- 
tion itself,  something  which  distinguishes  it  from 
other  affections  of  the  same  kind,  and  permits  of 
its  reference  to  this  or  that  potential  datum  of  sight 
or  touch  rather  than  to  any  other.  But  is  not  this 
equivalent  to  saying  that  affection  possesses,  from 
the  outset,  a certain  determination  of  extensity  ? 


62 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


Again,  it  is  alleged  that  there  are  erroneous 
localizations  ; for  example,  the  illusion  of  those 
who  have  lost  a limb  (an  illusion  which  requires, 
however,  further  examination).  But  what  can  we 
conclude  from  this  beyond  the  fact  that  education, 
once  acquired,  persists,  and  that  such  data  of 
memory  as  are  more  useful  in  practical  life  supplant 
those  of  immediate  consciousness  ? It  is  indispen- 
sable, in  view  of  action,  that  we  should  translate 
our  affective  experience  into  eventual  data  of  sight, 
touch,  and  muscular  sense.  When  once  this 
translation  is  made,  the  original  pales  ; but  it 
never  could  have  been  made  if  the  original  had  not 
been  there  to  begin  with,  and  if  sensation  had 
not  been,  from  the  beginning,  localized  by  its  own 
power  and  in  its  own  way. 

But  the  psychologist  has  much  difficulty  in 
accepting  this  idea  from  common  sense.  Just 
if  we  make  as  perception,  in  his  view,  could  be  in 
extra-spatiai  the  things  perceived  only  if  they  had 
perception  perception,  so  a sensation  cannot  be  in 
inexplicable,  ^he  nerve  unless  the  nerve  feels.  Now 
it  is  evident  that  the  nerve  does  not  feel.  So 
he  takes  sensation  away  from  the  point  where 
common  sense  localizes  it,  carries  it  towards  the 
brain,  on  which,  more  than  on  the  nerve,  it  appears 
to  depend,  and  logically  should  end  by  placing 
it  in  the  brain.  But  it  soon  becomes  clear  that 
if  it  is  not  at  the  point  where  it  appears  to  arise, 
neither  can  it  be  anywhere  else  : if  it  is  not  in  the 
nerve,  neither  is  it  in  the  brain  ; for  to  explain  its 


chap,  i NATURAL  EXTENSION  OF  IMAGES  63 

projection  from  the  centre  to  the  periphery  a 
certain  force  is  necessary,  which  must  be  attributed 
to  a consciousness  that  is  to  some  extent  active. 
Therefore,  he  must  go  further ; and,  after  having 
made  sensations  converge  towards  the  cerebral 
centre,  must  push  them  out  of  the  brain,  and 
thereby  out  of  space.  So  he  has  to  imagine  on 
the  one  hand  sensations  that  are  absolutely 
unextended,  and  on  the  other  hand  an  empty  space 
indifferent  to  the  sensations  which  are  projected 
into  it : henceforth  he  will  exhaust  himself  in 

efforts  of  every  kind  to  make  us  understand  how 
unextended  sensations  acquire  extensity,  and  why 
they  choose  for  their  abode  this  or  that  point  of 
space  rather  than  any  other.  But  this  doctrine 
is  not  only  incapable  of  showing  us  clearly  how 
the  unextended  takes  on  extension  ; it  renders 
affection,  extension,  and  representation  equally 
inexplicable.  It  must  assume  affective  states  as 
so  many  absolutes,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to 
say  why  they  appear  in  or  disappear  from  con- 
sciousness at  definite  moments.  The  passage  from 
affection  to  representation  remains  wrapt  in  an 
equally  impenetrable  mystery,  because,  once  again, 
you  will  never  find  in  internal  states,  which  are 
supposed  to  be  simple  and  unextended,  any  reason 
why  they  should  prefer  this  or  that  particular 
order  in  space.  And,  finally,  representation  itself 
must  be  posited  as  an  absolute  : we  cannot  guess 
either  its  origin  or  its  goal. 

Everything  becomes  clearer,  on  the  other  hand, 


64 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


if  we  start  from  representation  itself,  that  is  to  say 
from  the  totality  of  perceived  images.  My  percep- 
tion, in  its  pure  state,  isolated  from  memory,  does 
not  go  on  from  my  body  to  other  bodies  ; it  is,  to 
begin  with,  in  the  aggregate  of  bodies,  then  gradu- 
ally limits  itself  and  adopts  my  body  as  a centre. 
And  it  is  led  to  do  so  precisely  by  experience  of  the 
double  faculty,  which  this  body  possesses,  of  per- 
forming actions  and  feeling  affections ; in  a word,  by 
experience  of  the  sensori-motor  power  of  a certain 
image,  privileged  among  other  images.  For,  on 
the  one  hand,  this  image  always  occupies  the  centre 
of  representation,  so  that  the  other  images  range 
themselves  round  it  in  the  very  order  in  which  they 
might  be  subject  to  its  action ; on  the  other  hand, 
I know  it  from  within,  by  sensations  which  I term 
affective,  instead  of  knowing  only,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  other  images,  its  outer  skin.  There  is  then,  in 
the  aggregate  of  images,  a privileged  image, 
perceived  in  its  depths  and  no  longer  only  on  the 
surface — the  seat  of  affection  and,  at  the  same 
time,  the  source  of  action  : it  is  this  particular 
image  which  I adopt  as  the  centre  of  my  universe 
and  as  the  physical  basis  of  my  personality. 

But  before  we  go  on  to  establish  the  precise  rela- 
tion between  the  personality  and  the  images  in 
which  it  dwells,  let  us  briefly  sum  up,  contrast- 
ing it  with  the  analyses  of  current  psychology,  the 
theory  of  pure  perception  which  we  have  just 
sketched  out. 

We  will  return,  for  the  sake  of  simplicity,  to 


CHAP.  I 


NATURAL  EXTENSION  OF  IMAGES 


- - 65 

the  sense  of  sight,  which  we  chose  as  our  example. 

Psychology  has  accustomed  us  to  assume 

The  result  ol  J 

positing  sensa-  the  elementary  sensations  corresponding 

tions  and  , . . 

then  con-  to  the  impressions  received  by  the  rods 

structing  x 

perception  and  cones  of  the  retina.  With  these 

with  them. 

sensations  it  goes  on  to  reconstitute 
visual  perception.  But,  in  the  first  place,  there  is 
not  one  retina,  there  are  two  ; so  that  we  have  to 
explain  how  two  sensations,  held  to  be  distinct, 
combine  to  form  a single  perception  correspond- 
ing to  what  we  call  a point  in  space. 

Suppose  this  problem  solved.  The  sensations 
in  question  are  unextended  ; how  will  they  ac- 
quire extension  ? Whether  we  see  in  extensity 
a framework  ready  to  receive  sensations,  or  an 
effect  of  the  mere  simultaneity  of  sensations  co- 
existing in  consciousness  without  coalescing,  in 
either  case  something  new  is  introduced  with 
extensity,  something  unaccounted  for ; the 
process  by  which  sensation  arrives  at  extension, 
and  the  choice  by  each  elementary  sensation  of  a 
definite  point  in  space,  remain  alike  unexplained, 
We  will  leave  this  difficulty,  and  suppose  visual 
extension  constituted.  How  does  it  in  its  turn  re- 
unite with  tactile  extension  ? All  that  my  vision 
perceives  in  space  is  verified  by  my  touch.  Shall 
we  say  that  objects  are  constituted  by  just  the 
co-operation  of  sight  and  touch,  and  that  the  agree- 
ment of  the  two  senses  in  perception  may  be 
explained  by  the  fact  that  the  object  perceived  is 
their  common  product  ? But  how  could  there  be 


66 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


anything  common,  in  the  matter  of  quality,  between 
an  elementary  visual  sensation  and  a tactile  sensa- 
tion, since  they  belong  to  two  different  genera  ? The 
correspondence  between  visual  and  tactile  extension 
can  only  be  explained,  therefore,  by  the  parallelism 
of  the  order  of  the  visual  sensations  with  the  order 
of  the  tactile  sensations.  So  we  are  now  obliged 
to  suppose,  over  and  above  visual  sensations,  over 
and  above  tactile  sensations,  a certain  order  which 
is  common  to  both,  and  which  consequently  must 
be  independent  of  either.  We  may  go  further  : this 
order  is  independent  of  our  individual  perception, 
since  it  is  the  same  for  all  men,  and  constitutes 
a material  world  in  which  effects  are  linked  with 
causes,  in  which  phenomena  obey  laws.  We  are 
thus  led  at  last  to  the  hypothesis  of  an  objective 
order,  independent  of  ourselves ; that  is  to  say,  of 
a material  world  distinct  from  sensation. 

We  have  had,  as  we  advanced,  to  multiply  our 
irreducible  data,  and  to  complicate  more  and  more 
the  simple  hypothesis  from  which  we  started.  But 
have  we  gained  anything  by  it  ? Though  the 
matter  which  we  have  been  led  to  posit  is  indis- 
pensable in  order  to  account  for  the  marvellous 
accord  of  sensations  among  themselves,  we  still 
know  nothing  of  it,  since  we  must  refuse  to  it  all 
the  qualities  perceived,  all  the  sensations  of  which 
it  has  only  to  explain  the  correspondence.  It  is 
not,  then,  it  cannot  be,  anything  of  what  we 
know,  anything  of  what  we  imagine.  It  remains 
a mysterious  entity. 


CHAP.  * 


NATURAL  EXTENSION  OF  IMAGES 


67 


But  our  own  nature,  the  office  and  the  function 
of  our  personality,  remain  enveloped  in  equal 
mystery.  For  these  elementary  unextended  sen- 
sations which  develop  themselves  in  space,  whence 
do  they  come,  how  are  they  born,  what  purpose 
do  they  serve  ? We  must  posit  them  as  so  many 
absolutes,  of  which  we  see  neither  the  origin  nor 
the  end.  And  even  supposing  that  we  must 
distinguish,  in  each  of  us,  between  the  spirit 
and  the  body,  we  can  know  nothing  either  of 
body  or  of  spirit,  nor  of  the  relation  between  them. 

Now  in  what  does  this  hypothesis  of  ours  consist, 
and  at  what  precise  point  does  it  part  company 
Action,  not  with  the  other  ? Instead  of  starting  from 
should 'be'  the  affection,  of  which  we  can  say  nothing, 
starting  pomt.  sjnce  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should  be 
what  it  is  rather  than  anything  else,  we  start  from 
action,  that  is  to  say  from  our  faculty  of  effecting 
changes  in  things,  a faculty  attested  by  consciousness 
and  towards  which  all  the  powers  of  the  organized 
body  are  seen  to  converge.  So  we  place  ourselves 
at  once  in  the  midst  of  extended  images ; and  in 
this  material  universe  we  perceive  centres  of  inde- 
termination, characteristic  of  life.  In  order  that 
actions  may  radiate  from  these  centres,  the  move- 
ments or  influences  of  the  other  images  must  be  on 
the  one  hand  received  and  on  the  other  utilized. 
Living  matter,  in  its  simplest  form,  and  in  a 
homogeneous  state,  accomplishes  this  function 
simultaneously  with  those  of  nourishment  and 
repair.  The  progress  of  such  matter  consists  in 


68 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


sharing  this  double  labour  between  two  categories 
of  organs,  the  purpose  of  the  first,  called  organs 
of  nutrition,  being  to  maintain  the  second  : these 
last  are  made  for  action ; they  have  as  their 
simple  type  a chain  of  nervous  elements,  connect- 
ing two  extremities  of  which  the  one  receives 
external  impressions  and  the  other  executes  move- 
ments. Thus,  to  return  to  the  example  of  visual 
perception,  the  office  of  the  rods  and  cones  is  merely 
to  receive  excitations  which  will  be  subsequently 
elaborated  into  movements,  either  accomplished 
or  nascent.  No  perception  can  result  from  this, 
and  nowhere,  in  the  nervous  system,  are  there 
conscious  centres  ; but  perception  arises  from  the 
same  cause  which  has  brought  into  being  the  chain 
of  nervous  elements,  with  the  organs  which  sustain 
them  and  with  life  in  general.  It  expresses  and 
measures  the  power  of  action  in  the  living  being, 
the  indetermination  of  the  movement  or  of  the 
action  which  will  follow  the  receipt  of  the  stimulus. 
This  indetermination,  as  we  have  shown,  will  ex- 
press itself  in  a reflexion  upon  themselves,  or 
better  in  a division,  of  the  images  which  surround 
our  body  ; and,  as  the  chain  of  nervous  elements 
which  receives,  arrests,  and  transmits  movements 
is  the  seat  of  this  indetermination  and  gives  its 
measure,  our  perception  will  follow  all  the  detail 
and  will  appear  to  express  all  the  variations  of 
the  nervous  elements  themselves.  Perception, 
in  its  pure  state,  is  then,  in  very  truth,  a part  of 
things.  And  as  for  affective  sensation,  it  does 


chap,  i PURE  PERCEPTION  69 

not  spring  spontaneously  from  the  depths  of 
consciousness  to  extend  itself,  as  it  grows  weaker, 
in  space;  it  is  one  with  the  necessary  modifi- 
cations to  which,  in  the  midst  of  the  surround- 
ing images  that  influence  it,  the  particular 
image  that  each  one  of  us  terms  his  body  is 
sub]  ect. 

Such  is  our  simplified,  schematic  theory  of  exter- 
nal perception.  It  is  the  theory  of  pure  percep- 
tion. If  we  went  no  further,  the  part  of  con- 
sciousness in  perception  would  thus  be  confined  to 
threading  on  the  continuous  string  of  memory 
an  uninterrupted  series  of  instantaneous  visions, 
which  would  be  a part  of  things  rather  than  of 
ourselves.  That  this  is  the  chief  office  of  con- 
sciousness in  external  perception  is  indeed 
what  we  may  deduce  a priori  from  the  very  defini- 
tion of  living  bodies.  For  though  the  function 
of  these  bodies  is  to  receive  stimulations  in  order 
to  elaborate  them  into  unforeseen  reactions,  still 
the  choice  of  the  reaction  cannot  be  the  work  of 
chance.  This  choice  is  likely  to  be  inspired  by 
past  experience,  and  the  reaction  does  not  take 
place  without  an  appeal  to  the  memories  which 
analogous  situations  may  have  left  behind  them. 
The  indetermination  of  acts  to  be  accomplished 
requires  then,  if  it  is  not  to  be  confounded  with 
pure  caprice,  the  preservation  of  the  images  per- 
ceived. It  may  be  said  that  we  have  no  grasp  of 
the  future  without  an  equal  and  corresponding 


70 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


outlook  over  the  past,  that  the  onrush  of  our 
activity  makes  a void  behind  it  into  which  memories 
flow,  and  that  memory  is  thus  the  reverbera- 
tion, in  the  sphere  of  consciousness,  of  the  inde- 
termination of  our  will. — But  the  action  of  memory 
goes  further  and  deeper  than  this  superficial 
glance  would  suggest.  The  moment  has  come 
to  reinstate  memory  in  perception,  to  correct 
in  this  way  the  element  of  exaggeration  in  our 
conclusions,  and  so  to  determine  with  more 
precision  the  point  of  contact  between  con- 
sciousness and  things,  between  the  body  and 
the  spirit. 

We  assert,  at  the  outset,  that  if  there  be  memory, 
that  is,  the  survival  of  past  images,  these  images 
must  constantly  mingle  with  our  percep- 

Perception  is  . . 

less  objective  tion  of  the  present,  and  may  even  take  its 

in  fact  than  in  1 J . . 

theory  because  place.  For  if  they  have  survived  it  is  with 

it  includes  . 

a share  of  a view  to  utility  : at  every  moment  they 

memory.  . . . 

complete  our  present  experience,  enrich- 
ing it  with  experience  already  acquired  ; and,  as  the 
latter  is  ever  increasing,  it  must  end  by  covering  up 
and  submerging  the  former.  It  is  indisputable  that 
the  basis  of  real,  and  so  to  speak  instantaneous, 
intuition,  on  which  our  perception  of  the  external 
world  is  developed,  is  a small  matter  compared 
with  all  that  memory  adds  to  it.  Just  because 
the  recollection  of  earlier  analogous  intuitions 
is  more  useful  than  the  intuition  itself,  being 
bound  up  in  memory  with  the  whole  series  of 
subsequent  events,  and  capable  thereby  of  throw- 


CHAP.  I 


PURE  PERCEPTION 


71 


in g a better  light  on  our  decision,  it  supplants  the 
real  intuition  of  which  the  office  is  then  merely — 
we  shall  prove  it  later — to  call  up  the  recollection, 
to  give  it  a body,  to  render  it  active  and  thereby 
actual.  We  had  every  right,  then,  to  say  that 
the  coincidence  of  perception  with  the  object 
perceived  exists  in  theory  rather  than  in  fact. 
We  must  take  into  account  that  perception  ends 
by  being  merely  an  occasion  for  remembering, 
that  we  measure  in  practice  the  degree  of  reality 
by  the  degree  of  utility,  and,  finally,  that  it 
is  our  interest  to  regard  as  mere  signs  of  the 
real  those  immediate  intuitions  which  are,  in 
fact,  part  and  parcel  with  reality.  But  here  we 
discover  the  mistake  of  those  who  say  that  to 
perceive  is  to  project  externally  unextended 
sensations  which  have  been  drawn  from  our 
own  depths,  and  then  to  develop  them  in  space. 
They  have  no  difficulty  in  showing  that  our  com- 
plete perception  is  filled  with  images  which  belong 
to  us  personally,  with  exteriorized  (that  is  to  say 
recollected^  images ; but  they  forget  that  an 
impersonal  basis  remains  in  which  perception 
coincides  with  the  object  perceived;  and  which 
is,  in  fact,  externality  itself. 

The  capital  error,  the  error  which,  passing  over 
from  psychology  into  metaphysic,  shuts  us  out 

in  the  end  from  the  knowledge  both  of 
tion6 aiTpnie  body  and  of  spirit,  is  that  which  sees 
conTtantiy  orly  a difference  of  intensity,  instead 

intermingle.  . . , 

of  a difference  of  nature,  between  pure 


72 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


perception  and  memory.  Our  perceptions  are  un- 
doubtedly interlaced  with  memories,  and  inversely, 
a memory,  as  we  shall  show  later,  only  becomes 
actual  by  borrowing  the  body  of  some  perception 
into  which  it  slips.  These  two  acts,  perception 
and  recollection,  always  interpenetrate  each  other, 
are  always  exchanging  something  of  their  sub- 
stance as  by  a process  of  endosmosis.  The  proper 
office  of  psychologists  would  be  to  dissociate 
them,  to  give  back  to  each  its  natural  purity  ; 
in  this  way  many  difficulties  raised  byrpsychology, 
and  perhaps  also  by  metaphysics,  might  be  les- 
sened. But  they  will  have  it  that  these  mixed 
states,  compounded,  in  unequal  proportions,  of 
pure  perception  and  pure  memory,  are  simple. 
And  so  we  are  condemned  to  an  ignorance 
alike  of  pure  memory  and  of  pure  perception; 
to  knowing  only  a single  kind  of  phenomenon 
which  will  be  called  now  memory  and  now  per- 
ception, according  to  the  predominance  in  it  of 
one  or  other  of  the  two  aspects ; and,  con- 
sequently, to  finding  between  perception  and 
memory  only  a difference  in  degree  and  not  in 
kind.  The  first  effect  of  this  error,  as  we  shall 
see  in  detail,  is  to  vitiate  profoundly  the  theory 
of  memory ; for  if  we  make  recollection 
merely  a weakened  perception  we  misunderstand 
the  essential  difference  between  the  past  and  the 
present,  we  abandon  all  hope  of  understanding 
the  phenomena  of  recognition,  and,  more  gener- 
ally, the  mechanism  of  the  unconscious.  But,  in- 


CHAP.  I 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  MATTER 


73 


versely,  if  recollection  is  regarded  as  a weakened 
perception,  perception  must  be  regarded  as  a 
stronger  recollection.  We  are  driven  to  argue  as 
though  it  was  given  to  us  after  the  manner  of  a 
memory,  as  an  internal  state,  a mere  modification 
of  our  personality ; and  our  eyes  are  closed  to  the 
primordial  and  fundamental  act  of  perception, — 
the  act,  constituting  pure  perception,  whereby  we 
place  ourselves  in  the  very  heart  of  things.  And 
thus  the  same  error,  which  manifests  itself  in 
psychology  by  a radical  incapacity  to  explain  the 
mechanism  of  memory,  will  in  metaphysics  pro- 
foundly influence  the  idealistic  and  realistic 
conceptions  of  matter. 

For  realism,  in  fact,  the  invariable  order  of  the 
phenomena  of  nature  lies  in  a cause  distinct  from 
our  perceptions,  whether  this  cause  must  remain 
unknowable,  or  whether  we  can  reach  it  by  an 
effort  (always  more  or  less  arbitrary)  of  meta- 
physical construction.  For  the  idealist,  on  the 
contrary,  these  perceptions  are  the  whole  of 
reality,  and  the  invariable  order  of  the  phenomena 
of  nature  is  but  the  symbol  whereby  we  express, 
alongside  of  real  perceptions,  perceptions  that  are 
possible.  But,  for  realism  as  for  idealism,  percep- 
tions are  ‘ veridical  hallucinations,’  states  of  the 
subject,  projected  outside  himself ; and  the  two 
doctrines  differ  merely  in  this  : that  in  the  one 
these  states  constitute  reality,  in  the  other  they 
are  sent  forth  to  unite  with  it. 

But  behind  this  illusion  lurks  yet  another  that 


74 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


extends  to  the  theory  of  knowledge  in  general.  We 
have  said  that  the  material  world  is  made 
Philosophy  up  of  objects,  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  of 
dissociate  images,  of  which  all  the  parts  act  and 
reac  t upon  each  other  by  movements.  And 
that  which  constitutes  our  pure  perception 
is  our  dawning  action,  in  so  far  as  it  is  pre- 
figured in  those  images.  The  actuality  of 
our  perception  thus  lies  in  its  activity,  in  the 
movements  which  prolong  it,  and  not  in  its 
greater  intensity : the  past  is  only  idea,  the 
present  is  ideo-motor.  But  this  is  what  our 
opponents  are  determined  not  to  see,  because 
they  regard  perception  as  a kind  of  contempla- 
tion, attribute  to  it  always  a purely  speculative 
end,  and  maintain  that  it  seeks  some  strange 
disinterested  knowledge  ; as  though,  by  isolating 
it  from  action,  and  thus  severing  its  links  with  the 
real,  they  were  not  rendering  it  both  inexplicable 
and  useless.  But  thenceforward  all  difference 
between  perception  and  recollection  is  abolished, 
since  the  past  is  essentially  that  which  acts  no  longer, 
and  since,  by  misunderstanding  this  characteristic 
of  the  past,  they  become  incapable  of  making  a 
real  distinction  between  it  and  the  present,  i.e.  that 
which  is  acting.  No  difference  but  that  of 
mere  degree  will  remain  between  perception  and 
memory  ; and  neither  in  the  one  nor  in  the  other 
will  the  subject  be  acknowledged  to  pass  beyond 
himself. — Restore,  on  the  contrary,  the  true  char- 
acter of  perception  ; recognize  in  pure  perception  a 


CHAP.  I 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  MATTER 


75 


system  of  nascent  acts  which  plunges  roots  deep 
into  the  real ; and  at  once  perception  is  seen  to  be 
radically  distinct  from  recollection  ; the  reality 
of  things  is  no  more  constructed  or  recon- 
structed, but  touched,  penetrated,  lived  ; and  the 
problem  at  issue  between  realism  and  idealism, 
instead  of  giving  rise  to  interminable  metaphysical 
discussions,  is  solved,  or  rather  dissolved  by 
intuition. 

In  this  way  also  we  shall  plainly  see  what 
position  we  ought  to  take  up  between  idealism 
it  might  and  realism,  which  are  both  condemned 
!nk?mget  w t0  see  in  matter  only  a construc- 
natureof 0 tion  or  a reconstruction  executed  by 

matter.  the  mjn(p  For  jf  we  follow  Out  to  the 
end  the  principle  according  to  which  the 
subjectivity  of  our  perception  consists,  above 
all,  in  the  share  taken  by  memory,  we  shall  say 
that  even  the  sensible  qualities  of  matter  would 
be  known  in  themselves,  from  within  and  not  from 
without,  could  we  but  disengage  them  from  that 
particular  rhythm  of  duration  which  characterizes 
our  consciousness.  Pure  perception,  in  fact, 
however  rapid  we  suppose  it  to  be,  occupies  a 
certain  depth  of  duration,  so  that  our  successive 
perceptions  are  never  the  real  moments  of  things, 
as  we  have  hitherto  supposed,  but  are  moments 
of  our  consciousness.  Theoretically,  we  said,  the 
part  played  by  consciousness  in  external  perception 
would  be  to  join  together,  by  the  continuous 
thread  of  memory,  instantaneous  visions  of 


j6  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  i 

the  real.  But,  in  fact,  there  is  for  us  nothing  that 
is  instantaneous.  In  all  that  goes  by  that  name 
there  is  already  some  work  of  our  memory,  and 
consequently  of  our  consciousness,  which  prolongs 
into  each  other,  so  as  to  grasp  them  in  one  relatively 
simple  intuition,  an  endless  number  of  moments 
of  an  endlessly  divisible  time.  Now  what  is, 
in  truth,  the  difference  between  matter  as  the 
strictest  realism  might  conceive  it,  and  the  per- 
ception which  we  have  of  it  ? Our  perception 
presents  us  with  a series  of  pictorial,  but  discon- 
tinuous, views  of  the  universe ; from  our  present 
perceptions  we  could  not  deduce  subsequent 
perceptions,  because  there  is  nothing  in  an 
aggregate  of  sensible  qualities  which  foretells 
the  new  qualities  into  which  they  will  change. 
On  the  contrary,  matter,  as  realism  usually 
posits  it,  evolves  in  such  a manner  that  we  can 
pass  from  one  moment  to  the  next  by  a mathe- 
matical deduction.  It  is  true  that,  between  this 
matter  and  this  perception,  scientific  realism  can 
find  no  point  of  contact,  because  it  develops 
matter  into  homogeneous  changes  in  space,  while 
it  contracts  perception  into  unextended  sensa- 
tions within  consciousness.  But,  if  our  hypo- 
thesis is  correct,  we  can  easily  see  how  perception 
and  matter  are  distinguished,  and  how  they 
coincide.  The  qualitative  heterogeneity  of  our 
successive  perceptions  of  the  universe  results  from 
the  fact  that  each,  in  itself,  extends  over  a certain 
depth  of  duration,  and  that  memory  condenses 


CHAP.  I 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  MATTER 


77 


in  each  an  enormous  multiplicity  of  vibrations 
which  appear  to  us  all  at  once,  although  they  are 
successive.  If  we  were  only  to  divide,  ideally,  this 
undivided  depth  of  time,  to  distinguish  in  it  the 
necessary  multiplicity  of  moments,  in  a word  to 
eliminate  all  memory,  we  should  pass  thereby  from 
perception  to  matter,  from  the  subject  to  the  object. 
Then  matter,  becoming  more  and  more  homo- 
geneous as  our  extended  sensations  spread  them- 
selves over  a greater  number  of  moments,  would 
tend  more  and  more  towards  that  system  of  homo- 
geneous vibrations  of  which  realism  tells  us,  al- 
though it  would  never  coincide  entirely  with  them. 
There  would  be  no  need  to  assume,  on  the  one 
hand,  space  with  unperceived  movements,  and, 
on  the  other,  consciousness  with  unextended 
sensations.  Subject  and  object  would  unite  in 
an  extended  perception  the  subjective  side  of 
perception  being  the  contraction  effected  by 
memory,  and  the  objective  reality  of  matter  fusing 
with  the  multitudinous  and  successive  vibrations 
into  which  this  perception  can  be  internally 
broken  up.  Such  at  least  is  the  conclusion  which, 
we  hope,  will  issue  clearly  from  the  last  part  of 
this  essay.  Questions  relating  to  subject  and  object, 
to  their  distinction  and  their  union,  should  be  put 
in  terms  of  time  rather  than  of  space. 

But  our  distinction  between  ‘ pure  perception  ’ 
and  ‘pure  memory’  has  yet  another  aim.  Just 
as  pure  perception,  by  giving  us  hints  as  to  the 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


78 


nature  of  matter,  allows  us  to  take  an  intermediate 
position  between  realism  and  idealism,  so  pure 
memory,  on  the  other  hand,  by  opening  to  us  a 
view  of  what  is  called  spirit,  should  enable  us  to 
decide  between  those  other  two  doctrines,  mater- 
ialism and  spiritualism.1  Indeed  it  is  this  aspect 
of  the  subject  which  will  first  occupy  our  atten- 
tion in  the  two  following  chapters,  because  it 
is  in  this  aspect  that  our  hypothesis  allows  some 
degree  of  experimental  verification. 

For  it  is  possible  to  sum  up  our  conclusions  as 
to  pure  perception  by  saying  that  there  is  in  matter 
As  also  of  the  something  more  than,  hut  not  something 
spirit.  different  from,  that  which  is  actually 
given.  Undoubtedly  conscious  perception  does  not 
compass  the  whole  of  matter,  since  it  consists, 
in  as  far  as  it  is  conscious,  in  the  separation,  or  the 
‘ discernment,’  of  that  which,  in  matter,  interests 
our  various  needs.  But  between  this  perception 
of  matter  and  matter  itself  there  is  but  a differ- 
ence of  degree  and  not  of  kind,  pure  perception 
standing  towards  matter  in  the  relation  of  the 
part  to  the  whole.  This  amounts  to  saying  that 
matter  cannot  exercise  powers  of  any  kind  other 
than  those  which  we  perceive.  It  has  no  mys- 
terious virtue,  it  can  conceal  none.  To  take  a 
definite  example,  one  moreover  which  interests 
us  most  nearly,  we  may  say  that  the  nervous 

1 The  word  * spiritualism  ’ is  used  throughout  this  work 
to  signify  any  philosophy  that  claims  for  spirit  an  existence 
of  its  own.  (Translators’  note.) 


chap,  i THE  PROBLEM  OF  MATTER  79 

system,  a material  mass  presenting  certain  quali- 
ties of  colour,  resistance,  cohesion,  etc.,  may 
well  possess  unperceived  physical  properties,  but 
physical  properties  only.  And  hence  it  can  have 
no  other  office  than  to  receive,  inhibit,  or  transmit 
movement. 

Now  the  essence  of  every  form  of  materialism 
is  to  maintain  the  contrary,  since  it  holds  that 
consciousness,  with  all  its  functions,  is  bom  of 
the  mere  interplay  of  material  elements.  Hence  it 
is  led  to  consider  even  the  perceived  qualities 
of  matter, — sensible,  and  consequently  felt,  quali- 
ties,— as  so  many  phosphorescences  which  follow 
the  track  of  the  cerebral  phenomena  in  the  act  of 
perception.  Matter,  thus  supposed  capable  of 
creating  elementary  facts  of  consciousness,  might 
therefore  just  as  well  engender  intellectual  facts 
of  the  highest  order.  It  is,  then,  of  the  essence 
of  materialism  to  assert  the  perfect  relativity  of 
sensible  qualities,  and  it  is  not  without  good 
reason  that  this  thesis,  which  Democritus  has 
formulated  in  precise  terms,  is  as  old  as 
materialism. 

But  spiritualism  has  always  followed  mater- 
ialism along  this  path.  As  if  everything  lost  to 
matter  must  be  gained  by  spirit,  spiritualism  has 
never  hesitated  to  despoil  matter  of  the  qualities 
with  which  it  is  invested  in  our  perception,  and 
which,  on  this  view,  are  subjective  appearances. 
Matter  has  thus  too  often  been  reduced  to  a 
mysterious  entity  which,  just  because  all  we 


8o 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  1 


know  of  it  is  an  empty  show,  might  as  well 
engender  thought  as  any  other  phenomenon. 

The  truth  is  that  there  is  one,  and  only  one, 
method  of  refuting  materialism  : it  is  to  show 
that  matter  is  precisely  that  which  it  appears  to  be. 
Thereby  we  eliminate  all  virtuality,  all  hidden 
power,  from  matter,  and  establish  the  phenomena 
of  spirit  as  an  independent  reality.  But  to  do 
this  we  must  leave  to  matter  those  qualities 
which  materialists  and  spiritualists  alike  strip 
from  it : the  latter  that  they  may  make  of  them 
representations  of  the  spirit,  the  former  that  they 
may  regard  them  only  as  the  accidental  garb  of 
space. 

This,  indeed,  is  the  attitude  of  common  sense 
with  regard  to  matter,  and  for  this  reason  com- 
mon sense  believes  in  spirit.  It  seems  to  us 
that  philosophy  should  here  adopt  the  attitude 
of  common  sense,  although  correcting  it  in  one 
respect.  Memory,  inseparable  in  practice  from 
perception,  imports  the  past  into  the  present, 
contracts  into  a single  intuition  many  moments 
of  duration,  and  thus  by  a twofold  operation  com- 
pells  us,  de  facto,  to  perceive  matter  in  ourselves, 
whereas  we,  de  jure,  perceive  matter  within  matter. 

Hence  the  capital  importance  of  the  problem 
of  memory.  If  it  is  memory  above  all  that  lends 
to  perception  its  subjective  character, 
ordinal10  the  philosophy  of  matter  must  aim 
thffproMem°  in  the  first  instance,  we  said,  at  elimina- 
oi  memory,  ting  the  contributions  of  memory.  We 


CHAP.  I 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  MATTER 


8l 


must  now  add  that,  as  pure  perception  gives  us 
the  whole  or  at  least  the  essential  part  of  matter 
(since  the  rest  comes  from  memory  and  is  super- 
added  to  matter),  it  follows  that  memory  must 
be,  in  principle,  a power  absolutely  independent 
of  matter.  If,  then,  spirit  is  a reality,  it  is  here, 
in  the  phenomenon  of  memory,  that  we  may 
come  into  touch  with  it  experimentally.  And 
hence  any  attempt  to  derive  pure  memory  from 
an  operation  of  the  brain  should  reveal  on  analysis 
a radical  illusion. 

Let  us  put  the  same  statement  in  clearer  lan- 
guage. We  maintain  that  matter  has  no  occult 

or  unknowable  power,  and  that  it  coin- 
seeing  that  a , . , . , , 

true  theory  cides,  in  essentials,  with  pure  perception, 
refutes  mate-  Thence  we  conclude  that  the  living  body 

in  general,  and  the  nervous  system  in 
particular,  are  only  channels  for  the  transmission 
of  movements,  which,  received  in  the  form  of 
stimulation,  are  transmitted  in  the  form  of  action, 
reflex  or  voluntary.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  vain  to 
attribute  to  the  cerebral  substance  the  property 
of  engendering  representations.  Now  the  pheno- 
mena of  memory,  in  which  we  believe  that  we 
can  grasp  spirit  in  its  most  tangible  form,  are  pre- 
cisely those  of  which  a superficial  psychology  is 
most  ready  to  find  the  origin  in  cerebral  activity 
alone  ; just  because  they  are  at  the  point  of  con- 
tact between  consciousness  and  matter,  and 
because  even  the  adversaries  of  materialism  have 
no  objection  to  treating  the  brain  as  a storehouse 


82 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


of  memories.  But  if  it  could  be  positively  estab- 
lished that  the  cerebral  process  answers  only  to 
a very  small  part  of  memory,  that  it  is  rather  the 
effect  than  the  cause,  that  matter  is  here  as  else- 
where the  vehicle  of  an  action  and  not  the  sub- 
stratum of  a knowledge,  then  the  thesis  which 
we  are  maintaining  would  be  demonstrated  by 
the  very  example  which  is  commonly  supposed  to 
be  most  unfavourable  to  it,  and  the  necessity 
might  arise  of  erecting  spirit  into  an  independent 
reality.  In  this  way  also,  perhaps,  some  light  would 
be  thrown  on  the  nature  of  what  is  called 
spirit,  and  on  the  possibility  of  the  interaction  of 
spirit  and  matter.  For  a demonstration  of  this 
kind  could  not  be  purely  negative.  Having  shown 
what  memory  is  not,  we  should  have  to  try  to 
discover  what  it  is.  Having  attributed  to  the 
body  the  sole  function  of  preparing  actions,  we  are 
bound  to  enquire  why  memory  appears  to  be  one 
with  this  body,  how  bodily  lesions  influence  it, 
and  in  what  sense  it  may  be  said  to  mould  itself 
upon  the  state  of  the  brain  matter.  It  is,  more- 
over, impossible  that  this  enquiry  should  fail  to 
give  us  some  information  as  to  the  psychological 
mechanism  of  memory,  and  the  various  mental 
operations  connected  therewith.  And,  inversely, 
if  the  problems  of  pure  psychology  seem  to  ac- 
quire some  light  from  our  hypothesis,  this 
hypothesis  itself  will  thereby  gain  in  certainty  and 
weight. 

But  we  must  present  this  same  idea  in  yet  a 


CHAP.  I 


MEMORY 


83 


third  form,  so  as  to  make  it  quite  clear  why  the 
And  might  problem  of  memory  is  in  our  eyes  a 
empirical  privileged  problem.  From  our  analysis 
metaphysical  °f  Pure  perception  issue  two  conclu- 
probiems.  sions  which  are  in  some  sort  divergent, 
one  of  them  going  beyond  psychology  in  the 
direction  of  psycho-physiology,  and  the  other  in 
that  of  metaphysics,  but  neither  allowing  of  immed- 
iate verification.  The  first  concerns  the  office  of 
the  brain  in  perception  : we  maintain  that  the 
brain  is  an  instrument  of  action,  and  not  of 
representation.  We  cannot  demand  from  facts 
the  direct  confirmation  of  this  thesis,  because  pure 
perception  bears,  by  definition,  upon  present 
objects,  acting  on  our  organs  and  our  nerve  centres ; 
and  because  everything  always  happens,  in  conse- 
quence, as  though  our  perceptions  emanated  from 
our  cerebral  state,  and  were  subsequently  pro- 
jected upon  an  object  which  differs  absolutely 
from  them.  In  other  words,  with  regard  to 
external  perception  the  thesis  which  we  dispute 
and  that  which  we  substitute  for  it  lead  to  pre- 
cisely the  same  consequences,  so  that  it  is  possible 
to  invoke  in  favour  of  either  the  one  or  the  other 
its  greater  intelligibility,  but  not  the  authority  of 
experience.  On  the  contrary,  the  empirical  study 
of  memory  may  and  must  decide  between  them. 
For  pure  recollection  is,  by  hypothesis,  the  repre- 
sentation of  an  absent  object.  If  the  necessary 
and  sufficient  cause  of  perception  lies  in  a certain 
activity  of  the  brain,  this  same  cerebral  activity. 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  I 


84 


repeating  itself  more  or  less  completely  in  the 
absence  of  the  object,  will  suffice  to  reproduce 
perception  : memory  will  be  entirely  explicable 
by  the  brain.  But  if  we  find  that  the  cerebral 
mechanism  does  indeed  in  some  sort  condition 
memories,  but  is  in  no  way  sufficient  to  ensure 
their  survival ; if  it  concerns,  in  remembered 
perception,  our  action  rather  than  our  repre- 
sentation ; we  shall  be  able  to  infer  that  it 
plays  an  analogous  part  in  perception  itself,  and 
that  its  office  is  merely  to  ensure  our  effective 
action  on  the  object  present.  Our  first  conclusion 
may  thus  find  its  verification. — There  would 
still  remain  this  second  conclusion,  which  is  of  a 
more  metaphysical  order, — viz.  : that  in  pure  per- 
ception we  are  actually  placed  outside  ourselves, 
we  touch  the  reality  of  the  object  in  an  immediate 
intuition.  Here  also  an  experimental  verifica- 
tion is  impossible,  since  the  practical  results  are 
absolutely  the  same  whether  the  reality  of  the 
object  is  intuitively  perceived  or  whether  it  is 
rationally  constructed.  But  here  again  a study 
of  memory  may  decide  between  the  two 
hypotheses.  For,  in  the  second,  there  is  only  a 
difference  of  intensity,  or  more  generally,  of 
degree,  between  perception  and  recollection, 
since  they  are  both  self-sufficient  phenomena 
of  representation.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  we 
find  that  the  difference  between  perception  and 
recollection  is  not  merely  in  degree,  but  is  a 
radical  difference  in  kind,  the  presumption  will 


CHAP.  I 


MEMORY 


85 


be  in  favour  of  the  hypothesis  which  finds  in  per- 
ception something  which  is  entirely  absent  from 
memory,  a reality  intuitively  grasped.  Thus 
the  problem  of  memory  is  in  very  truth  a privi- 
leged problem,  in  that  it  must  lead  to  the  psycho- 
logical verification  of  two  theses  which  appear  to 
be  insusceptible  of  proof,  and  of  which  the  second, 
being  of  a metaphysical  order,  appears  to  go  far 
beyond  the  borders  of  psychology. 

The  road  which  we  have  to  follow,  then,  lies 
clear  before  us.  We  shall  first  pass  in  review 
evidences  of  various  kinds  borrowed  from  normal 
and  from  pathological  psychology,  by  which 
philosophers  might  hold  themselves  justified  in 
maintaining  a physical  explanation  of  memory. 
This  examination  must  needs  be  minute  or  it 
would  be  useless.  Keeping  as  close  as  possible 
to  facts,  we  must  seek  to  discover  where,  in  the 
operations  of  memory,  the  office  of  the  body  begins, 
and  where  it  ends.  And  should  we,  in  the  course 
of  this  enquiry,  find  confirmation  of  our  own  hypo- 
thesis, we  shall  not  hesitate  to  go  further  and, 
considering  in  itself  the  elementary  work  of  the 
mind,  complete  the  theory  thereby  sketched  out, 
of  the  relation  of  spirit  with  matter. 


CHAPTER  II 


OF  THE  RECOGNITION  OF  IMAGES. 

THE  BRAIN. 


MEMORY  AND 


We  pass  now  to  the  consideration  of  the  conse- 
quences for  the  theory  of  memory,  which  might 
The  two  ensue  from  the  acceptance  of  the  prin- 
memory : the  ciples  we  have  laid  down.  We  have 
afa  hodSy68  said  that  the  body,  placed  between  the 
an  indepen-  objects  which  act  upon  it  and  those 
leetion.  which  it  influences,  is  only  a conductor, 
the  office  of  which  is  to  receive  movements,  and 
to  transmit  them  (when  it  does  not  arrest  them) 
to  certain  motor  mechanisms,  determined  if  the 
action  is  reflex,  chosen  if  the  action  is  volun- 
tary. Everything,  then,  must  happen  as  if  an 
independent  memory  gathered  images  as  they 
successively  occur  along  the  course  of  time  ; 
and  as  if  our  body,  together  with  its  surround- 
ings, was  never  more  than  one  among  these 
images,  the  last,  that  which  we  obtain  at  any  mo- 
ment by  making  an  instantaneous  section  in  the 
general  stream  of  becoming.  In  this  section  our 
body  occupies  the  centre.  The  things  which 
surround  it  act  upon  it,  and  it  reacts  upon  them. 
Its  reactions  are  more  or  less  complex,  more  or 


8$ 


chap,  ii  THE  TWO  FORMS  OF  MEMORY  87 

less  varied,  according  to  the  number  and  nature 
of  the  apparatus  which  experience  has  set  up 
within  it.  Therefore  in  the  form  of  motor  contri- 
vances, and  of  motor  contrivances  only,  it  can 
store  up  the  action  of  the  past.  Whence  it 
results  that  past  images,  properly  so  called,  must 
be  otherwise  preserved ; and  we  may  formulate 
this  first  hypothesis  : 

I.  The  past  survives  under  two  distinct  forms  : 
first,  in  motor  mechanisms  ; secondly,  in  indepen- 
pendent  recollections. 

But  then  the  practical,  and  consequently  the 
usual  function  of  memory,  the  utilizing  of  past 
experience  for  present  action, — recognition,  in 
short, — must  take  place  in  two  different  ways. 
Sometimes  it  lies  in  the  action  itself,  and  in  the 
automatic  setting  in  motion  of  a mechanism 
adapted  to  the  circumstances  ; at  other  times  it 
implies  an  effort  of  the  mind  which  seeks  in  the 
past,  in  order  to  apply  them  to  the  present,  those 
representations  which  are  best  able  to  enter  into 
the  present  situation.  Whence  our  second  pro- 
position : 

II.  The  recognition  of  a present  object  is  effected 
by  movements  when  it  proceeds  from  the  object,  by 
representations  when  it  issues  from  the  subject. 

It  is  true  that  there  remains  yet  another  ques- 
tion : how  these  representations  are  preserved, 
and  what  are  their  relations  with  the  motor  me- 
chanisms. We  shall  go  into  this  subject  thor- 
oughly in  our  next  chapter,  after  we  have  con- 


88 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap,  n 


sidered  the  unconscious,  and  shown  where  the 
fundamental  distinction  lies  between  the  past 
and  the  present.  But  already  we  may  speak  of 
the  body  as  an  ever  advancing  boundary  between 
the  future  and  the  past,  as  a pointed  end, 
which  our  past  is  continually  driving  forward 
into  our  future.  Whereas  my  body,  taken  at  a 
single  moment,  is  but  a conductor  interposed 
between  the  objects  which  influence  it  and  those 
on  which  it  acts,  it  is,  on  the  other  hand,  when 
replaced  in  the  flux  of  time,  always  situated  at 
the  very  point  where  my  past  expires  in  a deed. 
And,  consequently,  those  particular  images  which 
I call  cerebral  mechanisms  terminate  at  each 
successive  moment  the  series  of  my  past  representa- 
tions, being  the  extreme  prolongation  of  those 
representations  into  the  present,  their  link  with 
the  real,  that  is,  with  action.  Sever  that  link, — and 
you  do  not  necessarily  destroy  the  past  image, 
but  you  deprive  it  of  all  means  of  acting  upon 
the  real  and  consequently,  as  we  shall  show,  of 
being  realized.  It  is  in  this  sense,  and  in  this 
sense  only,  that  an  injury  to  the  brain  can  abolish 
any  part  of  memory.  Hence  our  third,  and  last, 
proposition  : 

III.  We  pass,  by  imperceptible  stages,  from 
recollections  strung  out  along  the  course  of  time  to 
the  movements  which  indicate  their  nascent  or  pos- 
sible action  in  space.  Lesions  of  the  brain  may  affect 
these  movements,  but  not  these  recollections . 


chap,  ii  THE  TWO  FORMS  OF  MEMORY  89 

We  have  now  to  see  whether  experience  verifies 
these  three  propositions. 

I.  The  two  forms  of  memory. — I study  a lesson, 
and  in  order  to  learn  it  by  heart  I read  it  a first 
time,  accentuating  every  line  ; I then  repeat  it  a 
certain  number  of  times.  At  each  repetition 
there  is  progress  ; the  words  are  more  and  more 
linked  together,  and  at  last  make  a continuous 
whole.  When  that  moment  comes,  it  is  said  that 
I know  my  lesson  by  heart,  that  it  is  imprinted 
on  my  memory. 

I consider  now  how  the  lesson  has  been  learnt, 
and  picture  to  myself  the  successive  phases  of 
the  process.  Each  several  reading  then  recurs 
to  me  with  its  own  individuality  ; I can  see  it 
again  with  the  circumstances  which  attended  it 
then  and  still  form  its  setting.  It  is  distinguished 
from  those  which  preceded  or  followed  it  by  the 
place  which  it  occupied  in  time  ; in  short,  each 
reading  stands  out  before  my  mind  as  a definite 
event  in  my  history.  Again  it  will  be  said  that 
these  images  are  recollections,  that  they  are  im- 
printed on  my  memory.  The  same  words,  then, 
are  used  in  both  cases.  Do  they  mean  the  same 
thing  ? 

The  memory  of  the  lesson,  which  is  remembered 
in  the  sense  of  learnt  by  heart,  has  all  the  marks 
of  a habit.  Like  a habit,  it  is  acquired  by  the 
repetition  of  the  same  effort.  Like  a habit,  it 
demands  first  a decomposition  and  then  a recom- 


90  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  ii 


position  of  the  whole  action.  Lastly,  like  every 


To  learn  by 
heart  is  to 
create  a 
cerebral 
mechanism, 
a habit  of 
the  body. 


habitual  bodily  exercise,  it  is  stored  up 
in  a mechanism  which  is  set  in  motion 
as  a whole  by  an  initial  impulse,  in  a 
closed  system  of  automatic  movements 
which  succeed  each  other  in  the  same 


order  and,  together,  take  the  same  length  of  time. 

The  memory  of  each  several  reading,  on  the 
contrary,  the  second  or  the  third  for  instance, 
has  none  of  the  marks  of  a habit. 

To  recall  tlie 

successive  Its  image  was  necessarily  imprinted 

stages  of  ^ *✓  a 

learning  by  at  once  on  the  memory,  since  the 

heart  is  to  J 

appeal  to  an  other  readings  form,  by  their  very  de- 

independent  . . ° . . ... 

memory.  fimtion,  other  recollections.  It  is  like 
an  event  in  my  life  ; its  essence  is  to  bear  a date, 
and  consequently  to  be  unable  to  occur  again. 
All  that  later  readings  can  add  to  it  will  only 
alter  its  original  nature  ; and  though  my  effort 
to  recall  this  image  becomes  more  and  more  easy 
as  I repeat  it,  the  image,  regarded  in  itself,  was 
necessarily  at  the  outset  what  it  always  will 
be. 


It  may  be  urged  that  these  two  recollections, 
that  of  the  reading  and  that  of  the  lesson,  differ 
only  as  the  less  from  the  more,  and  that  the  images 
successively  developed  by  each  repetition  overlie 
each  other,  so  that  the  lesson  once  learned  is  but 
the  composite  image  in  which  all  readings  are 
blended.  And  I quite  agree  that  each  of  the 
successive  readings  differs  from  the  preceding 
mainly  in  the  fact  that  the  lesson  is  better  known. 


CHAP,  n THE  TWO  FORMS  OF  MEMORY  91 

But  it  is  no  less  certain  that  each  of  them,  con- 
sidered as  a new  reading  and  not  as  a lesson  better 
known,  is  entirely  sufficient  to  itself,  subsists  ex- 
actly as  it  occurred,  and  constitutes  with  all  its 
concomitant  perceptions  an  original  moment  of 
my  history.  We  may  even  go  further  and  aver 
that  consciousness  reveals  to  us  a profound  differ- 
ence, a difference  in  kind,  between  the  two  sorts 
of  recollection.  The  memory  of  a given  reading 
is  a representation,  and  only  a representation  ; 
it  is  embraced  in  an  intuition  of  the  mind  which 
I may  lengthen  or  shorten  at  will ; I assign  to  it 
any  duration  I please  ; there  is  nothing  to  prevent 
my  grasping  the  whole  of  it  instantaneously,  as  in 
one  picture.  On  the  contrary,  the  memory  of  the 
lesson  I have  learnt,  even  if  I repeat  this  lesson 
only  mentally,  requires  a definite  time,  the  time 
necessary  to  develop  one  by  one,  were  it  only  in 
imagination,  all  the  articulatory  movements  that 
are  necessary  : it  is  no  longer  a representation, 
it  is  an  action.  And,  in  fact,  the  lesson  once 
learnt  bears  upon  it  no  mark  which  betrays  its 
origin  and  classes  it  in  the  past ; it  is  part  of 
my  present,  exactly  like  my  habit  of  walking  or 
of  writing  ; it  is  lived  and  acted,  rather  than 
represented : I might  believe  it  innate,  if  I 

did  not  choose  to  recall  at  the  same  time,  as 
so  many  representations,  the  successive  readings 
by  means  of  which  I learnt  it.  Therefore  these 
representations  are  independent  of  it,  and,  just  as 
they  preceded  the  lesson  as  I now  possess  and 


92 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


know  it,  so  that  lesson  once  learned  can  do  with- 
out them. 

Following  to  the  end  this  fundamental  dis- 
tinction, we  are  confronted  by  two  different 
memories  theoretically  independent.  The  first 
records,  in  the  form  of  memory-images,  all  the 
events  of  our  daily  life  as  they  occur  in  time  ; 
it  neglects  no  detail ; it  leaves  to  each  fact, 
to  each  gesture,  its  place  and  date.  Regardless 
of  utility  or  of  practical  application,  it  stores  up 
the  past  by  the  mere  necessity  of  its  own  nature. 
By  this  memory  is  made  possible  the  intelligent, 
or  rather  intellectual,  recognition  of  a perception 
already  experienced  ; in  it  we  take  refuge  every 
time  that,  in  the  search  for  a particular  image,  we 
remount  the  slope  of  our  past.  But  every  percep- 
Habits  tion  is  prolonged  into  a nascent  action  ; 
repeated*  and  while  the  images  are  taking  their 

amassed^n  place  and  order  in  this  memory,  the 
these°ddoy  not  movements  which  continue  them  modi- 
paswtheymere-  fy  the  organism,  and  create  in  the  body 
iy  act  it  new  dispositions  towards  action.  Thus 
is  gradually  formed  an  experience  of  an  entirely 
different  order,  which  accumulates  within  the  body, 
a series  of  mechanisms  wound  up  and  ready,  with 
reactions  to  external  stimuli  ever  more  numerous 
and  more  varied,  and  answers  ready  prepared  to  an 
ever  growing  number  of  possible  solicitations.  We 
become  conscious  of  these  mechanisms  as  they 
come  into  play ; and  this  consciousness  of  a whole 
past  of  efforts  stored  up  in  the  present  is  indeed 


CHAP.  II 


THE  TWO  FORMS  OF  MEMORY 


93 


also  a memory,  but  a memory  profoundly  differ- 
ent from  the  first,  always  bent  upon  action,  seated 
in  the  present  and  looking  only  to  the  future. 
It  has  retained  from  the  past  only  the  intelli- 
gently coordinated  movements  which  represent 
the  accumulated  efforts  of  the  past ; and  it  recovers 
those  past  efforts,  not  in  the  memory-images  which 
recall  them,  but  in  the  definite  order  and  systema- 
tic character  with  which  the  actual  movements 
take  place.  In  truth,  it  no  longer  represents  our 
past  to  us,  it  acts  it ; and  if  it  still  deserves  the 
name  of  memory,  it  is  not  because  it  conserves 
bygone  images,  but  because  it  prolongs  their  use- 
ful effect  into  the  present  moment. 

Of  these  two  memories,  of  which  the  one 
imagines  and  the  other  repeats,  the  second  may 
such  is  the  supply  the  place  of  the  first  and  even 
memory,  as  a sometimes  be  mistaken  for  it.  When  a 
theekeJmaYhen  dog  welcomes  his  master,  barking  and 
recognizes.  wagging  his  tail,  he  certainly  recognizes 
him  ; but  does  this  recognition  imply  the  evoca- 
tion of  a past  image  and  the  comparison  of  that 
image  with  the  present  perception  ? Does  it  not 
rather  consist  in  the  animal’s  consciousness  of  a 
certain  special  attitude  adopted  by  his  body,  an 
attitude  which  has  been  gradually  built  up  by  his 
familiar  relations  with  his  master,  and  which  the 
mere  perception  of  his  master  now  calls  forth  in  him 
mechanically  ? We  must  not  go  too  far  ; even 
in  the  animal  it  is  possible  that  vague  images  of 
the  past  overflow  into  the  present  perception  ; 


94 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


we  can  even  conceive  that  its  entire  past  is  vir- 
tually indicated  in  its  consciousness  ; but  this  past 
does  not  interest  the  animal  enough  to  detach  it 
from  the  fascinating  present,  and  its  recognition 
must  be  rather  lived  than  thought.  To  call  up  the 
past  in  the  form  of  an  image,  we  must  be  able  to 
withdraw  ourselves  from  the  action  of  the  moment, 
we  must  have  the  power  to  value  the  useless,  we 
must  have  the  will  to  dream.  Man  alone  is  cap- 
able of  such  an  effort.  But  even  in  him  the  past 
to  which  he  returns  is  fugitive,  ever  on  the  point 
of  escaping  him,  as  though  his  backward  turning 
memory  were  thwarted  by  the  other,  more  natural, 
memory,  of  which  the  forward  movement  bears 
him  on  to  action  and  to  life. 

When  psychologists  talk  of  recollection  as  of  a 
fold  in  a material,  as  of  an  impress  graven  deeper 
by  repetition,  they  forget  that  the  im- 

But  true  . , , . , 

representative  mense  majority  of  our  memories  bear 

memory  re-  , i i , r vr  r 

cords  every  upon  events  and  details  of  our  life  of 
duration,  which  the  essence  is  to  have  a date, 
and  not  to  and  consequently  to  be  mcapable  of 
be  repeated.  keing  repeated.  The  memories  which 

we  acquire  voluntarily  by  repetition  are  rare 
and  exceptional.  On  the  contrary,  the  record- 
ing, by  memory,  of  facts  and  images  unique 
in  their  kind  takes  place  at  every  moment  of 
duration.  But  inasmuch  as  learnt  memories  are 
more  useful,  they  are  more  remarked.  And  as 
the  acquisition  of  these  memories  by  a repetition 
of  the  same  effort  resembles  the  well-known  process 


chap,  ii  THE  TWO  FORMS  OF  MEMORY  95 

of  habit,  we  prefer  to  set  this  kind  of  memory  in 
the  foreground,  to  erect  it  into  the  model  memory, 
and  to  see  in  spontaneous  recollection  only  the 
same  phenomenon  in  a nascent  state,  the  begin- 
ning of  a lesson  learnt  by  heart.  But  how  can 
we  overlook  the  radical  difference  between  that 
which  must  be  built  up  by  repetition  and  that 
which  is  essentially  incapable  of  being  repeated  ? 
Spontaneous  recollection  is  perfect  from  the  out- 
set ; time  can  add  nothing  to  its  image  without 
disfiguring  it ; it  retains  in  memory  its  place 
and  date.  On  the  contrary,  a learnt  recollection 
passes  out  of  time  in  the  measure  that  the  lesson 
is  better  known  ; it  becomes  more  and  more  im- 
personal, more  and  more  foreign  to  our  past  life. 
Repetition,  therefore,  in  no  sense  effects  the  con- 
version of  the  first  into  the  last ; its  office  is  merely 
to  utilize  more  and  more  the  movements  by  which 
the  first  was  continued,  in  order  to  organize 
them  together  and,  by  setting  up  a mechanism,  to 
create  a bodily  habit.  Indeed,  this  habit  could 
not  be  called  a remembrance,  were  it  not  that  I 
remember  that  I have  acquired  it  ; and  I remem- 
ber its  acquisition  only  because  I appeal  to  that 
memory  which  is  spontaneous,  which  dates  events 
and  records  them  but  once.  Of  the  two  memories, 
then,  which  we  have  just  distinguished,  the  first 
appears  to  be  memory  par  excellence.  The  second, 
that  generally  studied  by  psychologists,  is  habit 
interpreted  by  memory  rather  than  memory  itself. 

It  is  true  that  the  example  of  a lesson  learnt 


g6 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP  II 


by  heart  is  to  some  extent  artificial.  Yet  our 

Th  o mai  w^°^e  Passed  among  a limited 

consciousness  number  of  objects,  which  pass  more  or 
those  memory-  less  often  before  our  eyes  : each  of 

images  which  . . . ..  , 

can  usefully  them,  as  it  is  perceived,  provokes  on 

combine  with  . , . , 

the  present  our  part  movements,  at  least  nascent, 
whereby  we  adapt  ourselves  to  it.  These 
movements,  as  they  recur,  contrive  a mechanism 
for  themselves,  grow  into  a habit,  and  deter- 
mine in  us  attitudes  which  automatically  follow 
our  perception  of  things.  This,  as  we  have  said, 
is  the  main  office  of  our  nervous  system.  The 
afferent  nerves  bring  to  the  brain  a disturbance, 
which,  after  having  intelligently  chosen  its  path, 
transmits  itself  to  motor  mechanisms  created  by  re- 
petition . Thus  is  ensured  the  appropriate  reaction, 
the  correspondence  to  environment — adaptation, 
in  a word— which  is  the  general  aim  of  life.  And 
a living  being  which  did  nothing  but  live  would 
need  no  more  than  this.  But,  simultaneously 
with  this  process  of  perception  and  adaptation 
which  ends  in  the  record  of  the  past  in  the  form 
of  motor  habits,  consciousness,  as  we  have  seen, 
retains  the  image  of  the  situations  through  which  it 
has  successively  travelled,  and  lays  them  side  by 
side  in  the  order  in  which  they  took  place.  Of 
what  use  are  these  memory-images  ? Preserved  in 
memory,  reproduced  in  consciousness,  do  they  not 
distort  the  practical  character  of  life,  mingling 
dream  with  reality  ? They  would,  no  doubt,  if 
our  actual  consciousness,  a consciousness  which  re- 


chap,  n THE  TWO  FORMS  OF  MEMORY  97 

fleets  the  exact  adaptation  of  our  nervous  system 
to  the  present  situation,  did  not  set  aside  all  those 
among  the  past  images  which  cannot  be  co- 
ordinated with  the  present  perception  and  are 
unable  to  form  with  it  a useful  combination.  At 
most,  certain  confused  recollections,  unrelated 
to  the  present  circumstances,  may  overflow 
the  usefully  associated  images,  making  around 
these  a less  illuminated  fringe  which  fades  away 
into  an  immense  zone  of  obscurity.  But  sup- 
pose an  accident  which  upsets  the  equilibrium 
maintained  by  the  brain  between  the  external 
stimulation  and  the  motor  reaction,  relax  for  a 
moment  the  tension  of  the  threads  which  go  from 
the  periphery  to  the  periphery  by  way  of  the 
centre,  and  immediately  these  darkened  images 
come  forward  into  the  full  light  : it  is  probably  the 
latter  condition  which  is  realized  in  any  sleep  where- 
in we  dream.  Of  these  two  memories  that  we  have 
distinguished,  the  second,  which  is  active  or  motor, 
will,  then,  constantly  inhibit  the  first,  or  at  least 
only  accept  from  it  that  which  can  throw  light 
upon  and  complete  in  a useful  way  the  present 
situation  : thus,  as  we  shall  see  later,  could  the 
laws  of  the  association  of  ideas  be  explained.— 
But,  besides  the  services  which  they  can  render 
by  associating  with  the  present  perception,  the 
images  stored  up  in  the  spontaneous  memory 
have  yet  another  use.  No  doubt  they  are 
dream-images ; no  doubt  they  usually  appear 
and  disappear  independently  of  our  will ; and 


98 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


this  is  why,  when  we  really  wish  to  know  a 
thing,  we  are  obliged  to  learn  it  by  heart,  that  is 
to  say,  to  substitute  for  the  spontaneous  image  a 
motor  mechanism  which  can  serve  in  its  stead. 
But  there  is  a certain  effort  sui  generis  which 
permits  us  to  retain  the  image  itself,  for  a limited 
time,  within  the  field  of  our  consciousness  ; and, 
thanks  to  this  faculty,  we  have  no  need  to  await 
at  the  hands  of  chance  the  accidental  repetition 
of  the  same  situations,  in  order  to  organize  into  a 
habit  concomitant  movements  ; we  make  use  of  the 
fugitive  image  to  construct  a stable  mechanism 
which  takes  its  place. — Either,  then,  our  distinction 
of  the  two  independent  memories  is  unsound,  or, 
if  it  corresponds  to  facts,  we  shall  find  an  exaltation 
of  spontaneous  memory  in  most  cases  where  the 
sensori-motor  equilibrium  of  the  nervous  system 
is  disturbed  ; an  inhibition,  on  the  contrary,  in 
the  normal  state,  of  all  spontaneous  recollections 
which  do  not  serve  to  consolidate  the  present 
equilibrium  ; and  lastly,  in  the  operation  by 
means  of  which  we  acquire  the  habit-memory,  a 
latent  intervention  of  the  image-memory.  Let 
us  see  whether  the  facts  confirm  this  hypothesis. 

For  the  moment  we  will  insist  on  neither  point  ; 
we  hope  to  throw  ample  light  upon  both  when 
we  study  the  disturbances  of  memory  and  the  laws 
of  the  association  of  ideas.  We  shall  be  content 
for  the  present  to  show,  in  regard  to  things  which 
are  learnt,  how  the  two  memories  run  side  by  side 
and  lend  to  each  other  a mutual  support.  It  is 


CHAP  II. 


THE  TWO  FORMS  OF  MEMORY 


99 


a matter  of  every-day  experience  that  lessons 
committed  to  the  motor  memory  can  be  auto- 
matically repeated ; but  observation  of  patho- 
logical cases  proves  that  automatism  extends 
Therefore  much  further  in  this  direction  than  we 
hasTvride1  think.  In  cases  of  dementia,  we  some- 
repfesentative  times  find  that  intelligent  answers  are 
“ten°super-  given  to  a succession  of  questions  which 
masked;1  by  are  not  understood : language  here  works 

habit  memory.  ap-er  ^g  manner  0f  a reflex.1  Aphasics, 

incapable  of  uttering  a word  spontaneously,  can 
recollect  without  a mistake  the  words  of  an  air 
which  they  sing.*  Or  again,  they  will  fluently 
repeat  a prayer,  a series  of  numbers,  the  days  of 
the  week,  or  the  months  of  the  year.3  Thus 
extremely  complex  mechanisms,  subtle  enough  to 
imitate  intelligence,  can  work  by  themselves  when 
once  they  have  been  built  up,  and  in  consequence 
usually  obey  a mere  initial  impulse  of  the  will. 
But  what  takes  place  while  they  are  being  built 
up  ? When  we  strive  to  learn  a lesson,  for  in- 
stance, is  not  the  visual  or  auditory  image  which 
we  endeavour  to  reconstitute  by  movements 
already  in  our  mind,  invisible  though  present  ? 
Even  in  the  very  first  recitation,  we  recognize, 

1 Robertson,  Reflex  Speech  ( Journal  of  Mental  Science, 
April,  1888).  Cf.  the  article  by  Ch.  Fere,  Le  langage  reflexe 
(Revue  Philosophique,  Jan.  1896). 

2 Oppenheim,  Ueber  das  Verhalten  der  musikalischen  Aus- 
drucksbewegungen  bei  Aphatischen  ( Charite  Annalen,  xiii, 
1888,  p.  348  et  seq.). 

3 Ibid.,  p.  365. 


100 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


by  a vague  feeling  of  uneasiness,  any  error  we 
have  made,  as  though  from  the  obscure  depths 
of  consciousness  we  received  a sort  of  warn- 
ing.1 Concentrate  your  mind  on  that  sensation, 
and  you  will  feel  that  the  complete  image  is  there, 
but  evanescent,  a phantasm  that  disappears  just 
at  the  moment  when  motor  activity  tries  to  fix 
its  outline.  During  some  recent  experiments 
(which,  however,  were  undertaken  with  quite  a 
different  purpose),2  the  subjects  averred  that  they 
felt  just  such  an  impression.  A series  of  letters, 
which  they  were  asked  to  remember,  was  held 
before  their  eyes  for  a few  seconds.  But,  to  pre- 
vent any  accentuating  of  the  letters  so  perceived 
by  appropriate  movements  of  articulation,  they 
were  asked  to  repeat  continuously  a given  syl- 
lable while  their  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  image. 
From  this  resulted  a special  psychical  state ; 
the  subjects  felt  themselves  to  be  in  complete 
possession  of  the  visual  image,  although  unable  to 
produce  any  part  of  it  on  demand  : to  their  great 
surprise  the  line  disappeared.  ‘ According  to  one 
observer,  the  basis  was  a Gesammivorstellung,  a 
sort  of  all-embracing  complex  idea  in  which  the 
parts  have  an  indefinitely  felt  unity.’  3 

1 See,  on  the  subject  of  this  sense  of  error,  the  article  by 
Muller  and  Schumann,  Experimented  Beitrage  zur  Untersu- 
chung  des  Gedacthtnisses  ( Zeitschr . f.  Psych,  u.  Phys.  der 
Sinnesorgane  (Dec.,  1893,  p.  305). 

2 W.  G.  Smith,  The  Relation  of  Attention  to  Memory.  (Mind, 
Jan.  1895.) 

3 Ibid.  loc.  cit.,  p.  23. 


CHAP.  II 


THE  TWO  FORMS  OF  MEMORY 


IOI 


This  spontaneous  recollection,  which  is  masked 
by  the  acquired  recollection,  may  flash  out  at 
intervals ; but  it  disappears  at  the  least  move- 
ment of  the  voluntary  memory.  If  the  subject 
sees  the  series  of  letters,  of  which  he  thought  he 
retained  the  image,  vanish  from  before  his  eyes, 
this  happens  mainly  when  he  begins  to  repeat  it : 
the  effort  seems  to  drive  the  rest  of  the  image  out 
of  his  consciousness.1  Now,  analyse  many  of  the 
imaginative  methods  of  mnenomics  and  you  will 
find  that  the  object  of  this  science  is  to  bring  into 
the  foreground  the  spontaneous  memory  which 
was  hidden,  and  to  place  it,  as  an  active  memory, 
at  our  service  ; to  this  end  every  attempt  at 
motor  memory  is,  to  begin  with,  suppressed. 
The  faculty  of  mental  photography,  says  one 
author,2  belongs  rather  to  subconsciousness  than 

1 Something  of  this  nature  appears  to  take  place  in  that 
affection  which  German  authors  call  Dyslexie.  The  patient 
reads  the  first  words  of  a sentence  aright,  and  then  stops 
abruptly,  unable  to  go  on,  as  though  the  movements  of 
articulation  had  inhibited  memory.  See,  on  the  subject 
of  dyslexie  : Berlin,  Eine  besondere  Art  der  W ortblindheit 
(Dyslexie),  Wiesbaden,  1887,  and  Sommer,  Die  Dyslexie 
als  functionelle  Stoning  (Arch.  f.  Psychiatrie,  1893).  We  may 
also  compare  with  these  phenomena  the  remarkable  cases 
of  word  deafness  in  which  the  patient  understands  the 
speech  of  others,  but  no  longer  understands  his  own.  (See 
examples  cited  by  Bateman,  On  Aphasia,  p.  200  ; by  Bernard, 
Del' aphasie,  Paris  1889,  pp.  143  and  144;  and  by  Broadbent, 
Case  of  Peculiar  Affection  of  Speech,  Brain,  1878-9,  p.  484  et 
seq.). 

2 Mortimer  Granville,  Ways  of  remembering.  (Lancet,  Sept. 
27,  1899,  p.  458.) 


102  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  n 

to  consciousness  ; it  answers  with  difficulty  to 
the  summons  of  the  will.  In  order  to  exercise  it, 
we  should  accustom  ourselves  to  retaining,  for 
instance,  several  arrangements  of  points  at  once, 
without  even  thinking  of  counting  them 1 : we 
must  imitate  in  some  sort  the  instantaneity  of 
this  memory  in  order  to  attain  to  its  mastery. 
Even  so  it  remains  capricious  in  its  manifesta- 
tions ; and  as  the  recollections  which  it  brings  us 
are  akin  to  dreams,  its  more  regular  intrusion 
into  the  life  of  the  mind  may  seriously  disturb 
intellectual  equilibrium. 

What  this  memory  is,  whence  it  is  derived  and 
how  it  works,  will  be  shown  in  the  next  chapter. 
For  the  moment,  the  schematic  conception  will 
be  enough.  So  we  shall  merely  sum  up  the  pre- 
ceding paragraphs  and  say  that  the  past  appears 
indeed  to  be  stored  up,  as  we  had  surmised,  under 
two  extreme  forms  : on  the  one  hand,  motor 
mechanisms  which  make  use  of  it  ; on  the  other, 
personal  memory-images  which  picture  all  past 
events  with  their  outline,  their  colour  and  their 
place  in  time.  Of  these  two  memories  the  first 
follows  the  direction  of  nature  ; the  second,  left 
to  itself,  would  rather  go  the  contrary  way. 
The  first,  conquered  by  effort,  remains  depen- 
dent upon  our  will ; the  second,  entirely  spon- 
taneous, is  as  capricious  in  reproducing  as  it 
is  faithful  in  preserving.  The  only  regular  and 


1 Kay,  Memory  and  how  to  improve  it.  New  York,  1888. 


chap,  ii  THE  TWO  FORMS  OF  MEMORY  IO3 

certain  service  which  the  second  memory  can 
render  to  the  first  is  to  bring  before  it  images  of 
what  preceded  or  followed  situations  similar  to 
the  present  situation,  so  as  to  guide  its  choice  : 
in  this  consists  the  association  of  ideas.  There 
is  no  other  case  in  which  the  memory  which  recalls 
is  sure  to  obey  the  memory  which  repeats.  Every- 
where else,  we  prefer  to  construct  a mechanism 
which  allows  us  to  sketch  the  image  again,  at 
need,  because  we  are  well  aware  that  we  cannot 
count  upon  its  reappearance.  These  are  the  two 
extreme  forms  of  memory  in  their  pure  state. 

Now  we  may  say  at  once  that  it  is  because 
philosophers  have  concerned  themselves  only  with 
the  intermediate  and,  so  to  speak,  impure  forms 
Thus  memory-  that  they  have  misunderstood  the  true 
motor  habit  nature  of  memory.  Instead  of  dis- 
fnekind!nct  sociating  the  two  elements,  memory- 
maycoaiesce  image  and  movement,  in  order  to  dis- 
sons  whyRaea"  cover  subsequently  by  what  series  of 
of°recnoOTittony  operations  they  come,  having  each  aban- 
is  necessary.  (jone(j  some  part  of  its  original  purity 

to  fuse  one  with  the  other,  they  are  apt  to  consider 
only  the  mixed  phenomenon  which  results  from 
their  coalescence.  This  phenomenon,  being  mixed, 
presents  on  the  one  side  the  aspect  of  a motor 
habit,  and  on  the  other  that  of  an  image  more  or  less 
consciously  localized.  But  they  will  have  it  that  the 
phenomenon  is  a simple  one.  So  they  must  assume 
that  the  cerebral  mechanism,  whether  of  the  brain 
or  of  the  medulla  oblongata  or  of  the  cord,  which 


104  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  ii 

serves  as  the  basis  of  the  motor  habit,  is  at  the 
same  time  the  substratum  of  the  conscious  image. 
Hence  the  strange  hypothesis  of  recollections  stored 
in  the  brain,  which  are  supposed  to  become  con- 
scious as  though  by  a miracle,  and  bring  us  back 
to  the  past  by  a process  that  is  left  unexplained. 
True,  some  observers  do  not  make  so  light  of 
the  conscious  aspect  of  the  operation,  and  see 
in  it  something  more  than  an  epiphenomenon. 
But,  as  they  have  not  begun  by  isolating  the 
memory  which  retains  and  sets  out  the  successive 
repetitions  side  by  side  in  the  form  of  memory 
images,  since  they  confound  it  with  the  habit  which 
is  perfected  by  use,  they  are  led  to  believe  that  the 
effect  of  repetition  is  brought  to  bear  upon  one  and 
the  same  single  and  indivisible  phenomenon  which 
merely  grows  stronger  by  recurrence  : and,  as  this 
phenomenon  clearly  ends  by  being  merely  a motor 
habit  corresponding  to  a mechanism,  cerebral  or 
other,  they  are  led,  whether  they  will  or  no,  to  sup- 
pose that  some  mechanism  of  this  kind  was  from  the 
beginning  behind  the  image  and  that  the  brain  is  an 
organ  of  representation.  We  are  now  about  to  con- 
sider these  intermediate  states,  and  distinguish  in 
each  of  them  the  part  which  belongs  to  nascent 
action,  that  is  to  say  of  the  brain,  and  the  part  of 
independent  memory,  that  is  to  say  of  memory- 
images.  What  are  these  states  ? Being  partly  motor 
they  must,  on  our  hypothesis,  prolong  a present 
perception  ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  inasmuch  as 
they  are  images,  they  reproduce  past  perceptions. 


chap,  ii  MOVEMENTS  AND  MEMORY  105 

Now  the  concrete  process  by  which  we  grasp  the 
past  in  the  present  is  recognition.  Recognition, 
therefore,  is  what  we  have  to  study,  to  begin 
with. 

II.  Of  recognition  in  general : memory-images 
and  movements. — There  are  two  ways  in  which 
it  is  customary  to  explain  the  feeling  of 
is  recogni-  ‘ having  seen  a thing  before.’  On  one 
theory,  the  recognition  of  a present 
perception  consists  in  inserting  it  mentally  in  its 
former  surroundings.  I encounter  a man  for  the 
first  time  : I simply  perceive  him.  If  I meet  him 
again,  I recognize  him,  in  the  sense  that  the 
concomitant  circumstances  of  the  original  per- 
ception, returning  to  my  mind,  surround  the 
actual  image  with  a setting  which  is  not  a 
setting  actually  perceived.  To  recognize,  then, 
according  to  this  theory,  is  to  associate  with  a 
present  perception  the  images  which  were  for- 
merly given  in  connexion  with  it.1 — But,  as  it 
has  been  justly  observed,  a renewed  perception 
cannot  suggest  the  concomitant  circumstances 
of  the  original  perception  unless  the  latter  is 
evoked,  to  begin  with,  by  the  present  state  which 
resembles  it.2  Let  A be  the  first  perception ; 

1 See  the  systematic  treatment  of  this  thesis,  supported 
by  experiments,  in  Lehmann’s  articles,  Ueber  Wieder- 
erkennen  ( Philos . Studien  Wundt,  vol.  v,  p.  96  et  seq.,  and 
vol.  vii,  p.  169  et  seq.). 

2 Pillon,  La  formation  des  idees  abstraites  et  generates  (Crit. 


io6 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


the  accompanying  circumstances  B,  C,  D,  remain 
associated  with  it  by  contiguity.  If  I call  the 
same  perception  renewed  A',  as  it  is  not  with 
A',  but  with  A that  the  terms  B,  C,  D are  bound 
up,  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to  evoke  the  terms 
B,  C,  D,  that  A'  should  be  first  called  up  by  some 
association  of  resemblance.  And  it  is  of  no  use  to 
assert  that  A'  is  identical  with  A.  For  the  two  terms, 
though  similar,  are  numerically  distinct,  and  differ 
at  least  by  this  simple  fact  that  A'  is  a perception, 
whereas  A is  but  a memory.  Of  the  two  interpre- 
tations of  which  we  have  spoken,  the  first,  then, 
melts  into  the  second,  which  we  will  now  examine. 

It  is  alleged  that  the  present  perception  dives 
it  is  not  a into  the  depths  of  memory  in  search  of  the 

of0perception  remembrance  of  the  previous  perception 
and  memory.  w]^jcj1  resembles  it : the  sense  of  recog- 
nition would  thus  come  from  a bringing  together, 
or  a blending,  of  perception  and  memory.  No 
doubt,  as  an  acute  thinker  1 has  already  pointed 
out,  resemblance  is  a relation  established  by 
the  mind  between  terms  which  it  compares 
and  consequently  already  possesses ; so  the 
perception  of  a resemblance  is  rather  an  effect 
of  association  than  its  cause.  But,  along  with 
this  definite  and  perceived  resemblance  which 

Philos.  1885,  vol  i,  p.  208  et  seq.). — Cf.  Ward,  Assimilation 
and  Association  {Mind,  July  1893  and  Oct.  1894). 

1 Brochard,  La  loi  de  similarity  {Revue  Philosophique,  1880, 
vol.  ix,  p.  258).  M.  Rabier  shows  himself  also  of  this  opinion 
in  his  Lemons  de  Philosophie,  vol.  i,  Psychologie,  pp.  187-192. 


CHAP.  II 


MOVEMENTS  AND  MEMORIES 


107 


consists  in  the  common  element  seized  and  disen- 
gaged by  the  mind,  there  is  a vague  and  in  some 
sort  objective  resemblance,  spread  over  the  sur- 
face of  the  images  themselves,  which  might  act 
perhaps  like  a physical  cause  of  reciprocal  attrac- 
tion.1 And  should  we  ask  how  it  is,  then,  that 
we  often  recognize  an  object  without  being  able 
to  identify  it  with  a former  image,  refuge  is 
sought  in  the  convenient  hypothesis  of  cerebral 
tracks  which  coincide  with  each  other,  of  cerebral 
movements  made  easier  by  practice,2  or  of  percep- 
tive cells  communicating  with  cells  where  memories 
are  stored.8  In  truth,  all  such  theories  of  recog- 
nition are  bound  to  melt  away,  in  the  end,  into 
physiological  hypotheses  of  this  kind.  What  they 
were  aiming  at,  first,  was  to  make  all  recog- 
nition issue  from  a bringing  together  of  per- 
ception and  memory  ; but  experience  stands 
over  against  them,  testifying  that  in  most  cases 
recollection  emerges  only  after  the  perception 
is  recognized.  So  they  are  sooner  or  later 
forced  to  relegate  to  the  brain,  in  the  form  of  a 
combination  between  movements  or  of  a connexion 
between  cells,  that  which  they  had  first  declared 
to  be  an  association  of  ideas ; and  to  explain  the 

1 Pillon,  loc.  cit.,  p.  207.  Cf.  James  Sully,  The  Human 
Mind,  London,  1892,  vol.  i,  p.  331. 

2 Hoffding,  Ueber  Wiedererkennen,  Association  und  psy- 
chische  Activitat  ( V ierteljahresschrift  f.  wissenschaftliche  Philo- 
sophic, 1889,  p.  433. 

3 Munk,  Ueber  die  Functionen  der  Grosshirnrinde.  Berlin, 
1881,  p.  108  et  seq. 


io8 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


fact  of  recognition, — very  clear  on  our  view — by 
the  hypothesis,  which  seems  to  us  very  obscure,  of 
a brain  which  stores  up  ideas. 

But  the  fact  is  that  the  association  of  a perception 
with  a memory  is  not  enough  to  account  for  the 
process  of  recognition.  For  if  recognition  took  place 
in  this  way,  it  would  always  be  obliterated  when 
the  memory  images  had  disappeared,  and  always 
happen  when  these  images  are  retained.  Psychic 
blindness,  or  the  inability  to  recognize  perceived 
obj  ects,  would,  then,  never  occur  without  an  inhibi- 
tion of  visual  memory ; and,  above  all,  the  inhibi- 
tion of  visual  memory  would  invariably  produce 
psychic  blindness.  But  neither  consequence  is 
borne  out  by  facts.  In  a case  studied  by  Wil- 
brand,1  the  patient  could  describe  with  her  eyes 
shut  the  town  she  lived  in  and,  in  imagination, 
walk  through  its  streets  : yet,  once  in  the  street, 
she  felt  like  a complete  stranger  ; she  recognized 
nothing  and  could  not  find  her  way.  Facts  of  the 
same  kind  have  been  observed  by  Fr.  Muller  2 and 
Lissauer : 3 the  patients  can  summon  up  the 
mental  picture  of  an  object  named  to  them  ; they 
describe  it  very  well ; but  they  cannot  recognize 
it  when  it  is  shown  to  them.  The  retention,  even 
the  conscious  retention,  of  a visual  memory  is, 

1 Die  Seelenblindheit  als  Herderscheinung,  Wiesbaden, 
1887,  p.  56. 

2 Ein  Beitrag  zur  Kenntniss  der  Seelenblindheit  {Arch.  f. 
Psychiatrie,  vol.  xxiv,  1892. 

8 Ein  Fall  von  Seelenblindheit  {Arch.  /.  Psychiatrie,  1889). 


chap,  ii  MOVEMENTS  AND  MEMORIES  I09 

therefore,  not  enough  for  the  recognition  of  a simi- 
lar perception.  Inversely,  in  Charcot’s  case,  which 
has  become  the  classic  example  of  a complete 
eclipse  of  visual  images,*  not  all  recognition  of 
perceptions  was  obliterated.  A careful  study  of  the 
report  of  the  case  is  conclusive  on  this  point.  No 
doubt  the  patient  failed  to  recognize  the  streets  and 
houses  of  his  native  town,  to  the  extent  of  being 
unable  to  name  them  or  to  find  his  way  about 
them  ; yet  he  knew  that  they  were  streets  and 
houses.  He  no  longer  recognized  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren ; yet,  when  he  saw  them,  he  could  say  that 
this  was  a woman,  that  those  were  children.  None 
of  this  would  have  been  possible,  had  there  been 
psychic  blindness  in  the  absolute  sense  of  the 
word.  A certain  kind  of  recognition,  then,  which 
we  shall  need  to  analyse,  was  obliterated,  not  the 
general  faculty  of  recognition.  So  we  must  conclude 
that  not  every  recognition  implies  the  intervention 
of  a memory  image  ; and,  conversely,  that  we 
may  still  be  able  to  call  up  such  images  when  we 
have  lost  the  power  of  identifying  perceptions 
with  them.  What  then  is  recognition,  and  how 
shall  we  define  it  ? 

There  is,  in  the  first  place,  if  we  carry  the 
process  to  the  extreme,  an  instantaneous  recogni- 
tion, of  which  the  body  is  capable  by  itself, 
without  the  help  of  any  explicit  memory-image.  It 

1 Reported  by  Bernard,  Un  cas  de  suppression  brusque  et 
isolee  de  la  vision  mentale  ( Progres  Medical,  July  21, 1883). 


no 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  11 


consists  in  action  and  not  in  representation, 
in  one  kind  of  For  instance,  I take  a walk  in  a town 
the°basis°of  seen  then  for  the  first  time.  At  every 
famiSiiarfty°is  street  corner  I hesitate,  uncertain  where 
nessCof  al0us*  I am  going-  I am  in  doubt  ; and  I 
motoric-63  mean  by  this  that  alternatives  are  offered 
companiment.  my  that  my  movement  as  a 

whole  is  discontinuous,  that  there  is  nothing  in  one 
attitude  which  foretells  and  prepares  future  atti- 
tudes. Later,  after  prolonged  sojourn  in  the  town, 
I shall  go  about  it  mechanically,  without  having  any 
distinct  perception  of  the  objects  which  I am 
passing.  Now,  between  these  two  extremes,  the  one 
in  which  perception  has  not  yet  organized  the 
definite  movements  which  accompany  it,  and  the 
other  in  which  these  accompanying  movements  are 
organized  to  a degree  which  renders  perception 
useless,  there  is  an  intermediate  state  in  which 
the  object  is  perceived,  yet  provokes  movements 
which  are  connected,  continuous  and  called  up 
by  one  another.  I began  by  a state  in  which  I 
distinguished  only  my  perception ; I shall  end 
in  a state  in  which  I am  hardly  conscious  of 
anything  but  automatism  : in  the  interval  there 
is  a mixed  state,  a perception  followed  step  by 
step  by  automatism  just  impending.  Now,  if 
the  later  perceptions  differ  from  the  first  percep- 
tion in  the  fact  that  they  guide  the  body  towards 
the  appropriate  mechanical  reaction,  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  those  renewed  perceptions  appear  to 
the  mind  under  that  special  aspect  which  charac- 


CHAP  II 


MOVEMENTS  AND  MEMORIES 


IIT 


terizes  familiar  or  recognized  perceptions,  must 
we  not  assume  that  the  consciousness  of  a well- 
regulated  motor  accompaniment,  of  an  organized 
motor  reaction,  is  here  the  foundation  of  the  sense 
of  familiarity  ? At  the  basis  of  recognition  there 
would  thus  be  a phenomenon  of  a motor  order. 

To  recognize  a common  object  is  mainly  to 
know  how  to  use  it.  This  is  so  true  that  early 
observers  gave  the  name  apraxia  to  that  failure 
of  recognition  which  we  call  psychic  blindness.1 
But  to  know  how  to  use  a thing  is  to  sketch 
out  the  movements  which  adapt  themselves  to 
it ; it  is  to  take  a certain  attitude,  or  at  least 
to  have  a tendency  to  do  so  through  what 
the  Germans  call  motor  impulses  (Bewegungs- 
antriebe).  The  habit  of  using  the  object  has, 
then,  resulted  in  organizing  together  movements 
and  perceptions ; and  the  consciousness  of  these 
nascent  movements,  which  follow  perception  after 
the  manner  of  a reflex,  must  be  here  also  at  the 
bottom  of  recognition. 

There  is  no  perception  which  is  not  prolonged 
into  movement.  Ribot2  and  Maudsley3  long 
since  drew  attention  to  this  point.  The  training  of 

1 Kussmaul,  Die  Storungen  der  Sprache,  p.  181,  Allen 
Starr,  Apraxia  and  Aphasia  ( Medical  Record,  Oct.  27,  1888). 
— Cf.  Laquer,  Zur  Localisation  der  Sensorischen  Aphasie 
(Neurolog.  Centralblatt,  June  15,  1888),  and  Dodds,  On  some 
central  affections  of  vision  (Brain,  1885). 

2 Les  mouvements,  et  leur  importance  psychologique  (Revue 
Philosophique,  1879,  vol.  viii,  p.271  et  seq.). — Cf.  Psychologie 
de  V attention,  Paris,  1889,  p.  75. 

3 Physiology  of  Mind,  p.  206  et  seq. 


112 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


the  senses  consists  in  just  the  sum  of  the  connexions 
established  between  the  sensory  impression  and  the 
movement  which  makes  use  of  it.  As  the  impression 
is  repeated,  the  connexion  is  consolidated.  Nor  is 
there  anything  mysterious  in  the  mechanism  of 
the  operation.  Our  nervous  system  is  evidently 
arranged  with  a view  to  the  building  up  of  motor 
apparatus  linked,  through  the  intermediary  of  cen- 
tres, with  sense  stimuli ; and  the  discontinuity  of 
the  nervous  elements,  the  multiplicity  of  their 
terminal  branches,  which  are  probably  capable  of 
joining  in  various  ways,  make  possible  an  unlimited 
number  of  connexions  between  impressions  and 
the  corresponding  movements.  But  the  mechan- 
ism in  course  of  construction  cannot  appear  to 
consciousness  in  the  same  form  as  the  mechan- 
ism already  constructed.  There  is  something 
which  profoundly  distinguishes  and  clearly  mani- 
fests those  systems  of  movements  which  are  consoli- 
dated in  the  organism  ; and  that  is,  we  believe, 
the  difficulty  we  have  in  modifying  their  order. 
It  is,  again,  the  preformation  of  the  movements 
which  follow  in  the  movements  which  precede, 
a preformation  whereby  the  part  virtually  con- 
tains the  whole,  as  when  each  note  of  a tune  learnt 
by  heart  seems  to  lean  over  the  next  to  watch 
its  execution.1  If,  then,  every  perception  has 

1 In  one  of  the  most  ingenious  chapters  of  his  Psychologie 
(Paris,  1893,  vol.  i,  p.  242),  Fouillee  says  that  the  sense  of 
familiarity  is  largely  due  to  the  diminution  of  the  inward 
shock  which  constitutes  surprise. 


chap,  ii  MOVEMENTS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS  II3 


its  organized  motor  accompaniment,  the  ordinary 
feeling  of  recognition  has  its  root  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  this  organization. 

In  fact,  we  commonly  act  our  recognition  before 
we  think  it.  Our  daily  life  is  spent  among  objects 
whose  very  presence  invites  us  to  play  a part : in 
this  the  familiarity  of  their  aspect  consists.  Motor 
tendencies  would,  then,  be  enough  by  themselves  to 
give  us  the  feeling  of  recognition.  But  we  hasten  to 
add  that  in  most  cases  there  is  something  else  besides. 

For,  while  motor  apparatus  are  built  up  under 
the  influence  of  perceptions  that  are  analysed 
And  these  with  increasing  precision  by  the  body, 

“r°pa“ethe  our  Past  psychical  life  is  there : it 
me°morya-mons  survives — as  we  shall  try  to  prove — 
memory-Tma-  with  all  the  detail  of  its  events  local- 
ges  intervene.  jze(j  jn  time.  Always  inhibited  by 

the  practical  and  useful  consciousness  of  the 
present  moment,  that  is  to  say,  by  the  sensori- 
motor equilibrium  of  a nervous  system  con- 
necting perception  with  action,  this  memory 
merely  awaits  the  occurrence  of  a rift  between 
the  actual  impression  and  its  corresponding 
movement  to  slip  in  its  images.  As  a rule, 
when  we  desire  to  go  back  along  the  course  of  the 
past  and  discover  the  known,  localized,  personal 
memory-image  which  is  related  to  the  present, 
an  effort  is  necessary,  whereby  we  draw  back  from 
the  act  to  which  perception  inclines  us  : the 
latter  would  urge  us  towards  the  future  ; we  have 
to  go  backwards  into  the  past.  In  this  sense, 

1 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP,  tl 


II4 


movement  rather  tends  to  drive  away  the  image. 
Yet,  in  one  way,  it  contributes  to  its  approach. 
For,  though  the  whole  series  of  our  past  images 
remains  present  within  us,  still  the  representation 
which  is  analogous  to  the  present  perception 
has  to  be  chosen  from  among  all  possible  repre- 
sentations. Movements,  accomplished  or  merely 
nascent,  prepare  this  choice,  or  at  the  very  least 
mark  out  the  field  in  which  we  shall  seek  the 
image  we  need.  By  the  very  constitution  of  our 
nervous  system,  we  are  beings  in  whom  present 
impressions  find  their  way  to  appropriate  move- 
ments : if  it  so  happens  that  former  images  can 
just  as  well  be  prolonged  in  these  movements,  they 
take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  slip  into  the 
actual  perception  and  get  themselves  adopted  by 
it.  They  then  appear,  in  fact,  to  our  conscious- 
ness, though  it  seems  as  if  they  ought,  by  right, 
to  remain  concealed  by  the  present  state.  So 
we  may  say  that  the  movements  which  bring  about 
mechanical  recognition  hinder  in  one  way,  and 
encourage  in  another,  recognition  by  images.  In 
principle,  the  present  supplants  the  past.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  just  because  the  disappearance  of 
former  images  is  due  to  their  inhibition  by  our 
present  attitude,  those  whose  shape  might  fit 
into  this  attitude  encounter  less  resistance  than 
the  others ; and  if,  then,  any  one  of  them  is 
indeed  able  to  overcome  the  obstacle,  it  is  the 
image  most  similar  to  the  present  perception  that 
will  actually  do  so. 


chat,  ii  MOVEMENTS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS 


115 

If  our  analysis  is  correct,  the  diseases  which 
affect  recognition  will  be  of  two  widely  differing 
Therefore  forms,  and  facts  will  show  us  two  kinds 

one  kind  of  . 

psychic  of  psychic  blindness.  For  we  may  pre- 

blindness  may  . ... 

be  due  to  a sume  that,  m some  cases,  it  is  the  mem- 

disturbance  . 1 • T 

of  motor  ory-image  which  can  no  longer  reappear, 

habits,  not  to  'r  ° ^ • 1 

the  loss  of  and  that,  m other  cases,  it  is  merely 
images.  the  bond  between  perception  and 
the  accompanying  habitual  movements  which  is 
broken, — perception  provoking  diffused  move- 
ments, as  though  it  were  wholly  new.  Do  the  facts 
confirm  this  hypothesis  ? 

There  can  be  no  dispute  as  to  the  first  point. 
The  apparent  abolition  of  visual  memory  in  psychic 
blindness  is  so  common  a fact  that  it  served,  fora 
time,  as  a definition  of  that  disorder.  We  shall 
have  to  consider  how  far,  and  in  what  sense,  mem- 
ories can  really  disappear.  What  interests  us  for 
the  moment  is  that  cases  occur  in  which  there  is  no 
recognition  and  yet  visual  memory  is  not  altogether 
lost.  Have  we  here  then,  as  we  maintain,  merely 
a disturbance  of  motor  habits,  or  at  most  an  inter- 
ruption of  the  chain  which  unite  them  to  sense 
perceptions  ? As  no  observer  has  considered  a 
question  of  this  nature,  we  should  be  hard  put  to 
it  for  an  answer  if  we  had  not  noticed  here  and 
there  in  their  descriptions  certain  facts  which 
appear  to  us  significant. 

The  first  of  these  facts  is  the  loss  of  the  sense  of 
direction.  All  those  who  have  treated  the  subject 
of  psychic  blindness  have  been  struck  by  this  pecu- 


n6 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


liarity.  Lissauer’s  patient  had  completely  lost  the 
faculty  of  finding  his  way  about  his  own  house.1 
Fr.  Muller  insists  on  the  fact  that,  while  blind  men 
soon  learn  to  find  their  way,  the  victim  of  psychic 
blindness  fails,  even  after  months  of  practice,  to 
find  his  way  about  his  own  room.2  But  is  not  this 
faculty  of  orientation  the  same  thing  as  the  faculty 
of  coordinating  the  movements  of  the  body  with 
the  visual  impression,  and  of  mechanically  prolong- 
ing perceptions  in  useful  reactions  ? 

There  is  a second,  and  even  more  characteristic 
fact,  and  that  is  the  manner  in  which  these  patients 
draw.  We  can  conceive  two  fashions  of  drawing. 
In  the  first  we  manage,  by  tentative  efforts,  to 
set  down  here  and  there  on  the  paper  a certain 
number  of  points,  and  we  then  connect  them 
together,  verifying  continually  the  resemblance 
between  the  drawing  and  the  object.  This  is 
what  is  known  as  ‘ point  to  point  ’ drawing.  But 
our  habitual  method  is  quite  different.  We  draw 
with  a continuous  line,  after  having  looked  at,  or 
thought  of,  our  model.  How  shall  we  explain  such 
a faculty,  except  by  our  habit  of  discovering  at  once 
the  organization  of  the  outlines  of  common  objects, 
that  is  to  say,  by  a motor  tendency  to  draft 
their  diagram  in  one  continuous  line  ? But  if  it  is 

1 Op.  cit.,  Arch.  f.  Psychiatrie,  1889-90,  p.  224.  Cf.  Wil- 
brand,  op.  cit.,  p.  140,  and  Bernhardt,  Eigenthiimlicher  Fall 
von  Hirnerkrankung  ( Berliner  klinische  Wochenschrift,  1877, 
p.  581). 

2 Op.  cit.,  Arch.  f.  Psychiatrie,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  898, 


chap,  ii  MOVEMENTS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS  II 7 

just  such  habits  or  correspondences  which  are  lost 
in  certain  forms  of  psychic  blindness,  the  patient 
may  still  perhaps  be  able  to  draw  bits  of  a line 
which  he  will  connect  together  more  or  less  well  ; 
but  he  will  no  longer  be  able  to  draw  at  a stroke, 
because  the  tendency  to  adopt  and  reproduce  the 
general  movement  of  the  outline  is  no  longer  pre- 
sent in  his  hand.  Now  this  is  just  what  experi- 
ment verifies.  Lissauer’s  observations  are  instruc- 
tive on  this  head.1  His  patient  had  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  drawing  simple  objects;  and  if  he 
tried  to  draw  them  from  memory,  he  traced  de- 
tached portions  of  them  chosen  at  random,  and 
was  unable  to  unite  these  into  a whole.  Cases 
of  complete  psychic  blindness  are,  however,  rare. 
Those  of  word-blindness  are  much  more  numerous 
— cases  of  a loss,  that  is,  of  visual  recognition  limited 
to  the  characters  of  the  alphabet.  Now  it  is  a fact  of 
common  observation  that  the  patient,  in  such  cases, 
is  unable  to  seize  what  may  be  called  the  movement 
of  the  letters  when  he  tries  to  copy  them.  He 
begins  to  draw  them  at  any  point,  passing  back 
and  forth  between  the  copy  and  the  original  to 
make  sure  that  they  agree.  And  this  is  the  more 
remarkable  in  that  he  often  retains  unimpaired 
the  faculty  of  writing  from  dictation  or  spon- 
taneously. What  is  lost  is  clearly  the  habit  of 
distinguishing  the  articulations  of  the  object  per- 
ceived, that  is  to  say,  of  completing  the  visual 


1 Op.  cit.,  Arch.  f.  Psychiatric,  1889-90,  p.  233. 


n8 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


perception  by  a motor  tendency  to  sketch  its 
diagram.  Whence  we  may  conclude  that  such 
is  indeed  the  primordial  condition  of  recogni- 
tion. 

But  we  must  pass  now  from  automatic  recog- 
nition, which  is  mainly  achieved  through  move- 
ments, to  that  which  requires  the  regular  interven- 
tion of  memory-images.  The  first  is  recognition  by 
^attention ; the  second,  as  we  shall  see,  is  attentive 
recognition. 

This  form  also  begins  by  movements.  But, 
whereas,  in  automatic  recognition,  our  movements 
prolong  our  perception  in  order  to  draw  from 
it  useful  effects  and  thus  take  us  away  from  the 
object  perceived,  here,  on  the  contrary,  they  bring 
us  back  to  the  object,  to  dwell  upon  its  outlines. 
Thus  is  explained  the  preponderant,  and  no  longer 
merely  accessory,  part  taken  here  by  memory- 
images.  For  if  we  suppose  that  the  movements 
forego  their  practical  end,  and  that  motor  activity, 
instead  of  continuing  perception  by  useful  reactions, 
turns  back  to  mark  out  its  more  striking  features, 
then  the  images  which  are  analogous  to  the  pre- 
sent perception, — images  of  which  these  movements 
have  already  sketched  out,  so  to  speak,  the  form, — 
will  come  regularly,  and  no  longer  accidentally,  to 
flow  into  this  mould,  though  they  may  have  to  give 
up  much  of  their  detail  in  order  to  get  in  more 
easily. 

///. — Gradual  passage  of  recollections  into  move- 


CHAP.  II 


RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  II9 


merits.  Recognition  and  attention. — Here  we  come 
Transition  to  to  the  essential  point  of  our  discussion, 
recognition.  th°se  cases  where  recognition  is 

Mem  ofeaBtten-  attentive,  i.e.  where  memory-images 
considered. b0  are  regularly  united  with  the  present 
Spr0etettons  perception,  is  it  the  perception  which 
Injuries^to  the  determines  mechanically  the  appearance 
brain.  Gf  memories,  or  is  it  the  memories 
which  spontaneously  go  to  meet  the  perception  ? 

On  the  answer  to  this  question  will  depend  the 
nature  of  the  relation  which  philosophers  will  have 
to  establish  between  the  brain  and  memory.  For 
in  every  perception  there  is  a disturbance  communi- 
cated by  the  nerves  to  the  perceptive  centres.  If 
the  passing  on  of  this  movement  to  other  cortical 
centres  had,  as  its  real  effect,  the  upspringing  of 
images  in  these,  then  we  might  in  strictness  main- 
tain that  memory  is  but  a function  of  the  brain. 
But  if  we  can  establish  that  here,  as  elsewhere, 
movement  produces  nothing  but  movement,  that 
the  office  of  the  sense-stimulation  is  merely  to 
impress  on  the  body  a certain  attitude  into  which 
recollections  will  come  to  insert  themselves,  then, 
as  it  would  be  clear  that  the  whole  effect  of 
the  material  vibrations  is  exhausted  in  this  work 
of  motor  adaptation,  we  should  have  to  look  for 
memory  elsewhere.  On  the  first  hypothesis,  the 
disorders  of  memory  occasioned  by  a cerebral 
lesion  would  result  from  the  fact  that  the  recol- 
lections occupied  the  damaged  region  and  were 
destroyed  with  it.  On  the  second,  these  lesions 


120 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


would  affect  our  nascent  or  possible  action,  but 
our  action  alone.  Sometimes  they  would  hinder 
the  body  from  taking,  in  regard  to  the  object,  the 
attitude  that  may  call  back  its  memory-image  ; 
sometimes  they  would  sever  the  bonds  between 
remembrance  and  the  present  reality  ; that  is, 
by  suppressing  the  last  phase  of  the  realization 
of  a memory — the  phase  of  action — they  would 
thereby  hinder  the  memory  from  becoming  actual. 
But  in  neither  case  would  a lesion  of  the  bram 
really  destroy  memories. 

The  second  hypothesis  is  ours  ; but,  before  we 
attempt  to  verify  it,  we  must  briefly  state  liow 
we  understand  the  general  relations  of  percep- 
tion, attention  and  memory.  In  order  to  show 
how  a memory  may,  by  gradual  stages,  come  to 
graft  itself  on  an  attitude  or  a movement,  we 
shall  have  to  anticipate  in  some  degree  the  con- 
clusions of  our  next  chapter. 

What  is  attention  ? In  one  point  of  view  the 
essential  effect  of  attention  is  to  render  perception 
more  intense,  and  to  spread  out  its 
flKtnann  is’  details ; regarded  in  its  content,  it  would 
thebody11  °f  res°lve  itself  into  a certain  magnifying 
isefheivel'y,it  the  intellectual  state.1  But,  on  the 
movement0*  other  hand,  consciousness  testifies  to  an 
irreducible  difference  of  form  between 

1 Marillier,  Remarques  sur  le  mecanisme  de  Vattention 
(Revue  Philosophique,  1889,  vol.  xxvii). — Cf.  Ward,  art. 
Psychology  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica ; and  Bradley, 
Is  there  a Special  Activity  0)  Attention?  (Mind,  1886,  vol.  xi, 
P-  305.) 


chap,  n RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS 


121 


this  increase  of  intensity  and  that  which  is  owing 
to  a higher  power  of  the  external  stimulus  : it 
seems  indeed  to  come  from  within,  and  to  indicate 
a certain  attitude  adopted  by  the  intellect.  But 
just  here  begins  the  difficulty,  for  the  idea  of 
an  intellectual  attitude  is  not  a clear  idea.  Psy- 
chologists will  here  speak  of  a ‘ concentration  of 
the  mind,’  1 or  again  of  an  * apperceptive  ’ 2 
effort  to  bring  perception  into  the  field  of  distinct 
intelligence.  Some  of  them,  materializing  this 
idea,  will  suppose  a higher  tension  of  cerebral 
energy,3  or  even  the  setting  free  of  a certain  amount 
of  central  energy  which  reinforces  the  stimulation 
received.4  But  either  the  fact  observed  psy- 
chologically is  merely  translated  thereby  into  a 
physiological  symbolism  which  seems  to  us  even  less 
clear,  or  else  we  always  come  back  to  a metaphor. 

Stage  by  stage  we  shall  be  led  on  to  define  atten- 
tion as  an  adaptation  of  the  body  rather  than  of  the 
mind,  and  to  see  in  this  attitude  of  consciousness 
mainly  the  consciousness  of  an  attitude.  Such 
is  the  position  assumed  by  Ribot 5 in  the 
discussion,  and,  though  it  has  been  attacked,6 

1 Hamilton,  Lectures  on  Metaphysics,  vol.  i,  p.  247. 

2 Wundt,  Grundziige  der  physiologischen  Psychologie, 
vol.  iii,  p.  331  et  seq. 

3 Maudsley,  Physiology  of  Mind,  p.  299.  Cf.  Bastian, 
Les  processus  nerveux  dans  V attention  ( Revue  Philosophique, 
vol.  xxxiii,  p.  360  et  seq.). 

4 W.  James,  Principles  of  Psychology,  vol.  i,  p.  441. 

5 Psychologie  de  V attention,  Paris,  1889. 

8 Marillier,  op.  cit.  Cf.  J.  Sully,  The  Psycho-physical 
Process  in  Attention  (Brain,  1890,  p.  154). 


122 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


it  appears  to  have  retained  all  its  strength,  pro- 
vided, however,  that  we  are  content  to  see,  in 
the  movements  described  by  Ribot,  only 
the  negative  condition  of  the  phenomenon.  For, 
even  if  we  suppose  that  the  accompanying  move- 
ments of  voluntary  attention  are  mainly  move- 
ments of  arrest,  we  still  have  to  explain  the  accom- 
panying work  of  the  mind,  that  is  to  say,  the 
But  the  mysterious  operation  by  which  the  same 

positive  side  .....  , 

of  attention  organ,  perceiving  in  the  same  surround- 

is  the  effort  . , . . ,.  . .. 

which  seeks  mgs  the  same  ob]  ect,  discovers  m it 

past  memory-  . , r . -r>  i. 

images  to  a growing  number  of  things.  But  we 
into  the  may  go  farther,  and  maintain  that  the 
perception,  phenomena  of  inhibition  are  merely  a 
preparation  for  the  actual  movements  of  volun- 
tary attention.  Suppose  for  a moment  that  atten- 
tion, as  we  have  already  suggested,  implies  a 
backward  movement  of  the  mind  which  thus  gives 
up  the  pursuit  of  the  useful  effect  of  a present  per- 
ception : there  will  indeed  be,  first,  an  inhibition 
of  movement,  an  arresting  action.  But,  upon  this 
general  attitude,  more  subtle  movements  will 
soon  graft  themselves,  some  of  which  have  been 
already  remarked  and  described,1  and  all  of  which 
combine  to  retrace  the  outlines  of  the  object 
perceived.  With  these  movements  the  positive, 
no  longer  merely  negative,  work  of  attention 
begins.  It  is  continued  by  memories. 

For,  while  external  perception  provokes  on  our 

i N.  Lange,  Beitr.  znr  Theorie  der  Sinnlichen  Aufmerk- 
samkeit  (Philos.  Studien,  Wundt,  vol.  vii,  pp.  390-422). 


chap,  ii  RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  123 

part  movements  which  retrace  its  main  lines,  our 
memory  directs  upon  the  perception  received  the 
memory-images  which  resemble  it  and  which  are 
already  sketched  out  by  the  movements  themselves. 
Memory  thus  creates  anew  the  present  perception ; 
or  rather  it  doubles  this  perception  by  reflecting 
upon  it  either  its  own  image  or  some  other  memory- 
image  of  the  same  kind.  If  the  retained  or 
remembered  image  will  not  cover  all  the  details  of 
the  image  that  is  being  perceived,  an  appeal  is  made 
to  the  deeper  and  more  distant  regions  of  memory, 
until  other  details  that  are  already  known  come  to 
project  themselves  upon  those  details  that  remain 
unperceived.  And  the  operation  may  go  on  in- 
definitely;— memory  strengthening  and  enriching 
perception,  which,  in  its  turn  becoming  wider, 
draws  into  itself  a growing  number  of  comple- 
mentary recollections.  So  let  us  no  longer  think 
of  a mind  which  disposes  of  some  fixed  quantity 
of  light,  now  diffusing  it  around,  now  concen- 
trating it  on  a single  point.  Metaphor  for  meta- 
phor, we  would  rather  compare  the  elementary 
work  of  attention  to  that  of  the  telegraph  clerk 
who,  on  receipt  of  an  important  despatch,  sends 
it  back  again,  word  for  word,  in  order  to  check 
its  accuracy. 

But,  to  send  a telegram,  we  must  know  how  to 
use  the  machine.  And,  in  the  same  way,  in  order  to 
reflect  upon  a perception  the  image  which  we  have 
received  from  it,  we  must  be  able  to  reproduce 
it,  i.e.  to  reconstruct  it  by  an  effort  of  synthesis. 


124 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


It  has  been  said  that  attention  is  a power  of 
analysis,  and  it  is  true  ; but  it  has  not  been  suffi- 
ciently shown  how  an  analysis  of  this  kind  is 
possible,  nor  by  what  process  we  are  able  to 
discover  in  a perception  that  which  could  not  be 
perceived  in  it  at  first.  The  truth  is  that  this 
analysis  is  effected  by  a series  of  attempts  at  a 
synthesis,  i.e.  by  so  many  hypotheses  : our  memory 
chooses,  one  after  the  other,  various  analogous 
images  which  it  launches  in  the  direction  of  the 
new  perception.  But  the  choice  is  not  made 
at  random.  What  suggests  the  hypotheses, 
what  presides,  even  from  afar,  over  the  choice 
is  the  movement  of  imitation  which  continues 
the  perception,  and  provides  for  the  perception 
and  for  the  images  a common  framework. 

But,  if  this  be  so,  the  mechanism  of  distinct 
perception  must  be  different  from  what  it 
Thus  an  is  usually  thought  to  be.  Perception 
perception  ia  does  not  consist  merely  in  lmpres- 
onrtheX1°n’  sions  gathered,  or  even  elaborated,  by 
of  chosen  the  mind.  This  is  the  case,  at  most, 
theapast!rom  with  the  perceptions  that  are  dissipated 
as  soon  as  received,  those  which  we  disperse 
in  useful  actions.  But  every  attentive  percep- 
tion truly  involves  a reflexion,  in  the  etymological 
sense  of  the  word,  that  is  to  say  the  pro- 
jection, outside  ourselves,  of  an  actively  created 
image,  identical  with,  or  similar  to,  the  object  on 
which  it  comes  to  mould  itself.  If,  after  having 
gazed  at  any  object,  we  turn  our  eyes  abruptly 


chap.  n.  RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  125 

away,  we  obtain  an  * after  image  ’ of  it : must 
we  not  suppose  that  this  image  existed  already 
while  we  were  looking  ? The  recent  discovery 
of  centrifugal  fibres  of  perception  inclines  us  to 
think  that  this  is  the  usual  course  of  things  and 
that,  beside  the  afferent  process  which  carries 
the  impression  to  the  centre,  there  is  another 
process,  of  contrary  direction,  which  brings  back 
the  image  to  the  periphery.  It  is  true  that  we 
are  here  dealing  with  images  photographed  upon 
the  object  itself,  and  with  memories  following 
immediately  upon  the  perception  of  which  they 
are  but  the  echo.  But,  behind  these  images, 
which  are  identical  with  the  object,  there  are 
others,  stored  in  memory,  which  merely  resemble 
it,  and  others,  finally,  which  are  only  more  or 
less  distantly  akin  to  it.  All  these  go  out  to 
meet  the  perception,  and,  feeding  on  its  substance, 
acquire  sufficient  vigour  and  life  to  abide  with  it 
in  space.  The  experiments  of  Miinsterberg 1 and 
of  Kiilpe  2 leave  no  doubt  as  to  this  latter  point  : 
any  memory-image  that  is  capable  of  interpreting 
our  actual  perception  inserts  itself  so  thoroughly 
into  it  that  we  are  no  longer  able  to  discern  what 
is  perception  and  what  is  memory.  The  ingenious 
experiments  of  Goldscheider  and  Muller  on  the 
mechanism  of  reading  are  most  interesting  in 
this  regard.3  Arguing  against  Grashey,  who,  in 

1 Beitrage  zur  experimentellen  Psychologie,  vol.  iv,  p.  15 
et  seq.  2 Grundriss  der  Psychologie.  Leipzig,  1893,  p.  185. 

8 Zur  Physiologie  und  Palhologie  des  Lesens  ( Zeilschr . /. 


126 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


a well-known  essay,1  maintained  that  we  read 
words  letter  by  letter,  these  observers  proved 
by  experiments  that  rapid  reading  is  a real  work 
of  divination.  Our  mind  notes  here  and  there 
a few  characteristic  lines  and  fills  all  the  inter- 
vals with  memory-images  which,  projected  on 
the  paper,  take  the  place  of  the  real  printed 
characters  and  may  be  mistaken  for  them.  Thus 
we  are  constantly  creating  or  reconstructing. 
Our  distinct  perception  is  really  comparable  to 
a closed  circle  in  which  the  perception-image, 
going  towards  the  mind,  and  the  memory- 
image,  launched  into  space,  career  the  one  behind 
the  other. 

We  must  emphasize  this  latter  point.  Atten- 
tive perception  is  often  represented  as  a series 
of  processes  which  make  their  way  in 
single  file;  the  object  exciting  sensa- 
tions, the  sensations  causing  ideas  to 
start  up  before  them,  each  idea  setting 
in  motion,  one  in  front  of  the  other, 
points  more  and  more  remote  of  the 
intellectual  mass.  Thus  there  is  supposed  to  be 
a rectilinear  progress,  by  which  the  mind  goes 
further  and  further  from  the  object,  never  to 
return  to  it.  We  maintain,  on  the  contrary. 


The 

number  and 
complexity 
of  these 
images 
will  depend 
on  the 
degree  of 
tension 
adopted  by 
the  mind. 


Klinische  Medicin,  1893). — Cf.  McKeen  Cattell,  Ueber  die 
Zeit  der  Erkennung  von  Schriftzeichen  ( Philos . Siudien,  1885- 
86). 

1 Ueber  Aphasie  undihre  Beziehungen  zur  W ahrnehmungen 
(Arch.  /.  Psychiatrie,  1885,  vol.  xvi). 


CHAP.  II 


RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  12 7 


that  reflective  perception  is  a circuit,  in  which 
all  the  elements,  including  the  perceived  object 
itself,  hold  each  other  in  a state  of  mutual  tension 
as  in  an  electric  circuit,  so  that  no  disturbance 
starting  from  the  object  can  stop  on  its  way  and 
remain  in  the  depths  of  the  mind:  it  must  always 
find  its  way  back  to  the  object  whence  it  proceeds. 
Now,  it  must  not  be  thought  that  this  is  a mere 
matter  of  words.  We  have  here  two  radically 
different  conceptions  of  the  intellectual  process. 
According  to  the  first,  things  happen  mechanic- 
ally, and  by  a merely  accidental  series  of  succes- 
sive additions.  At  each  moment  of  an  attentive 
perception,  for  example,  new  elements  sent  up 
from  a deeper  stratum  of  the  mind  might  join 
the  earlier  elements,  without  creating  thereby 
a general  disturbance  and  without  bringing  about 
a transformation  of  the  whole  system.  In  the 
second,  on  the  contrary,  an  act  of  attention  implies 
such  a solidarity  between  the  mind  and  its  obj  ect, 
it  is  a circuit  so  well  closed,  that  we  cannot  pass 
to  states  of  higher  concentration  without  creating, 
whole  and  entire,  so  many  new  circuits  which 
envelop  the  first  and  have  nothing  in  common 
between  them  but  the  perceived  object.  Of 
these  different  circles  of  memory,  which  later 
we  shall  study  in  detail,  the  smallest,  A,  is  the 
nearest  to  immediate  perception.  It  contains 
only  the  object  O,  with  the  after-image  which 
comes  back  and  overlies  it.  Behind  it,  the  larger 
and  larger  circles  B,  C,  D correspond  to  growing 


128 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


efforts  at  intellectual  expansion.  It  is  the  whole 
of  memory,  as  we  shall  see,  that  passes  over  into 

each  of  these  circuits,  since 
memory  is  always  present ; 
but  that  memory,  capable, 
by  reason  of  its  elasticity,  of 
expanding  more  and  more, 
reflects  upon  the  object  a 
growing  number  of  sug- 
gested images, — sometimes 
the  details  of  the  object 
itself,  sometimes  concomi- 
tant details  which  may 
throw  light  upon  it.  Thus, 
after  having  rebuilt  the 
object  perceived,  as  an 
independent  whole,  we  re- 
assemble, together  with 
it,  the  more  and  more 
distant  conditions  with  which  it  forms  one 
system.  If  we  call  B',  C',  D',  these  causes  of 
growing  depth,  situated  behind  the  object,  and 
virtually  given  with  the  object  itself,  it  will 
be  seen  that  the  progress  of  attention  results  in 
creating  anew  not  only  the  object  perceived, 
but  also  the  ever  widening  systems  with  which 
it  may  be  bound  up  ; so  that  in  the  measure  in 
which  the  circles  B,  C,  D represent  a higher 
expansion  of  memory,  their  reflexion  attains 
in  B',  C',  D'  deeper  strata  of  reality. 

The  same  psychical  life,  therefore,  must  be 


chap,  n RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  129 


supposed  to  be  repeated  an  endless  number  of 
times  on  the  different  storeys  of  memory,  and  the 
same  act  of  the  mind  may  be  performed  at 
varying  heights.  In  the  effort  of  attention,  the 
mind  is  always  concerned  in  its  entirety,  but  it 
simplifies  or  complicates  itself  according  to  the 
level  on  which  it  chooses  to  go  to  work.  Usually 
it  is  the  present  perception  which  determines 
the  direction  of  our  mind  ; but,  according  to  the 
degree  of  tension  which  our  mind  adopts  and  the 
height  at  which  it  takes  its  stand,  the  perception 
develops  a greater  or  smaller  number  of  images. 

In  other  words,  personal  recollections,  exactly 
localized,  the  series  of  which  represents  the  course 
of  our  past  existence,  make  up,  all  to- 
gether, the  last  and  largest  enclosure 
of  our  memory.  Essentially  fugitive, 
they  become  materialized  only  by  chance, 
either  when  an  accidentally  precise  de- 
termination of  our  bodily  attitude 
them,  or  when  the  very  indetermination 
attitude  leaves  a clear  field  to  the 
of  their  manifestation.  But  this  outer- 
most envelope  contracts  and  repeats  itself  in 
inner  and  concentric  circles,  which  in  their 
narrower  range  enclose  the  same  recollections 
grown  smaller,  more  and  more  removed  from 
their  personal  and  original  form,  and  more  and 
more  capable,  from  their  lack  of  distinguishing 
features,  of  being  applied  to  the  present  percep- 
tion and  of  determining  it  after  the  manner  of  a 


So  there  are 
different 
planes  ol 
memory ; 
the  largest 
includes  all 
our  past, 
and  is  the 
plane  of 
dream. 

attracts 
of  that 
caprices 


130 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


species  which  defines  and  absorbs  the  individual. 
There  comes  a moment  when  the  recollection  thus 
brought  down  is  capable  of  blending  so  well  with 
the  present  perception  that  we  cannot  say  where 
perception  ends  or  where  memory  begins.  At 
that  precise  moment,  memory,  instead  of  capri- 
ciously sending  in  and  calling  back  its  images, 
follows  regularly,  in  all  their  details,  the  move- 
ments of  the  body. 

But,  in  the  degree  that  these  recollections  draw 
nearer  to  movements,  and  so  to  external  per- 
ception, the  work  of  memory  acquires 
a higher  practical  importance.  Past 
images,  reproduced  exactly  as  they  were, 
with  all  their  details  and  even  with  their 
affective  colouring,  are  the  images  of 
idle  fancy  or  of  dream  : to  act  is  just  to  induce 
this  memory  to  shrink,  or  rather  to  become 
thinned  and  sharpened,  so  that  it  presents  nothing 
thicker  than  the  edge  of  a blade  to  actual  exper- 
ience, into  which  it  will  thus  be  able  to  penetrate. 
In  truth,  it  is  because  psychology  has  failed  to 
separate  out  the  motor  element  in  memory,  that 
we  have  sometimes  overlooked  and  sometimes 
exaggerated  what  is  automatic  in  the  evocation 
of  remembrances.  According  to  our  view,  an 
appeal  is  made  to  activity  at  the  precise  moment 
when  perception  gives  rise  to  imitative  move- 
ments which  scan  it,  as  it  were,  automatically.  A 
sketch  is  thereby  furnished  to  us,  into  which  we 
put  the  right  details  and  the  right  colouring  by 


While,  on 
the  plane  of 
action, 
memory  is 
narrowed 
down  to 
become  one 
with  action. 


chap,  il  RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  131 

projecting  into  it  memories  more  or  less  remote. 
But  such  is  not  the  usual  way  of  describing  the 
process.  Sometimes  the  mind  is  supposed  to  be 
absolutely  independent  of  circumstances,  to  work 
exactly  as  it  likes  on  present  or  absent  objects ; — 
and  then  we  can  no  longer  understand  how  it  is 
that  the  normal  process  of  attention  may  be 
seriously  impaired  by  even  a slight  disturbance 
of  the  sensori-motor  equilibrium.  Sometimes, 
on  the  contrary,  the  evocation  of  images  is  sup- 
posed to  be  a mere  mechanical  effect  of  present 
perception ; it  is  assumed  that,  by  a necessary 
concatenation  of  processes  supposed  to  be  all 
alike,  the  object  calls  forth  sensations  and  the 
sensations  ideas  which  cling  to  them ; — but  then, 
since  there  is  no  reason  why  the  operation,  which 
is  mechanical  to  begin  with,  should  change  its 
character  as  it  goes  on,  we  are  led  to  the  hypo- 
thesis of  a brain  wherein  mental  states  may  dwell 
to  slumber  and  to  awaken.  In  both  cases  the 
true  function  of  the  body  is  misunderstood,  and 
as  neither  theory  teaches  how  and  why  the  inter- 
vention of  a mechanism  is  necessary,  neither  of 
them  is  able  to  show  where  such  intervention 
should  stop  if  it  is  once  brought  in . 

But  it  is  time  to  leave  these  general  considera- 
tions. We  must  ascertain  whether  our  hypothesis 
is  confirmed  or  contradicted  by  the  facts  of 
cerebral  localization  known  at  the  present  day. 
The  disorders  of  imaginative  memory,  which 
correspond  to  local  lesions  of  the  cortex,  are 


132 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


always  diseases  of  the  faculty  of  recognition ; 
either  of  visual  or  auditory  recognition  in  general 
(psychic  blindness  and  deafness),  or  of  the  recog- 
nition of  words  (word  blindness,  word  deafness, 
etc.).  These  disorders  we  have  now  to  exam- 


ine. 

If  our  hypothesis  is  well  founded,  these  failures 
of  recognition  are  in  no  sense  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  recollections  occupied  the  in- 

Hence  we  may  . r 

infer  that  jured  region  of  the  brain.  They  must 

lesions  of  the  J J 

brain  affect  be  due  to  one  of  two  causes  : some- 

the  automatic 

movements  of  times  our  body  is  no  longer  able 

inattentive  . J ° 

recognition,  automatically  to  adopt,  under  the  mnu- 

or  the  volun-  J r 

tary  move-  ence  of  the  external  stimulus,  the  precise 

ments  of  . . , , . 

attentive  attitude  by  means  of  which  a choice 

recognition,  ^ . 

butnothing  could  be  automatically  made  among 
our  memories ; sometimes  the  mem- 
ories are  no  longer  able  to  find  a fulcrum  in 
the  body,  a means  of  prolonging  themselves  in 
action.  In  the  first  case,  the  lesion  affects  the 
mechanisms  which  continue,  in  an  automati- 
cally executed  movement,  the  stimulation  re- 
ceived : attention  can  no  longer  be  fixed  by  the 
object.  In  the  second  case,  the  lesion  involves 
those  particular  cortical  centres  which  prepare 
voluntary  movements  by  lending  them  the  re- 
quired sensory  antecedent,  centres  which,  rightly 
or  wrongly,  are  termed  image-centres  : attention 
can  no  longer  be  fixed  by  the  subject.  But,  in 
either  case,  it  is  actual  movements  which  are 
hindered  or  future  movements  which  are  no 


chap,  ii  RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  I33 

longer  prepared  : there  has  been  no  destruction 
of  memories. 

Now  pathology  confirms  this  forecast.  It  re- 
reveals to  us  two  absolutely  distinct  kinds  of  psychic 
blindness  and  deafness,  and  of  word  blindness  and 
deafness.  In  the  first  kind,  visual  and  auditory 
memories  are  still  evoked,  but  they  cannot  apply 
themselves  to  the  corresponding  perceptions.  In 
the  second,  evocation  of  the  memories  themselves 
is  hindered.  Is  it  true  that  the  lesion  involves, 
as  we  said,  the  sensori-motor  mechanisms  of  auto- 
matic attention  in  the  first  case,  and  the  imagina- 
tive mechanisms  of  voluntary  attention  in  the 
second  ? In  order  to  verify  our  hypothesis,  we 
must  limit  demonstration  to  a definite  example. 
No  doubt  we  could  show  that  visual  recognition 
of  things  in  general,  and  of  words  in  particular, 
implies  a semi-automatic  motor  process  to  begin 
with,  and  then  an  active  projection  of  memories 
which  engraft  themselves  on  the  corresponding  atti- 
tudes. But  we  prefer  to  confine  ourselves  to  impres- 
sions of  hearing,  and  more  particularly  to  the  hear- 
ing of  articulate  language,  because  this  example 
is  the  most  comprehensive.  To  hear  speech  is, 
in  fact,  first  of  all  to  recognize  a sound,  then 
to  discover  its  sense,  and  finally  to  interpret  it 
more  or  less  thoroughly  : in  short,  it  is  to  pass 
through  all  the  stages  of  attention  and  to  exercise 
several  higher  or  lower  powers  of  memory.  More- 
over, no  disorders  are  more  common  or  better 
studied  than  those  of  the  auditive  memory  of 


134 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


words.  And,  lastly,  acoustic  verbal  images  are 
not  destroyed  without  a serious  lesion  of  certain 
determined  convolutions  of  the  cortex  : so  that 
we  are  here  provided  with  an  undisputed  example 
of  localization,  in  regard  to  which  we  can  enquire 
whether  the  brain  is  really  capable  of  storing  up 
memories.  We  have,  then,  to  show  in  the  audi- 
tory recognition  of  words : first,  an  automatic 
sensori-motor  process  ; secondly,  an  active  and, 
so  to  speak,  excentric  projection  of  memory- 
images. 

i.  I listen  to  two  people  speaking  in  a language 
which  is  unknown  to  me.  Do  I therefore  hear 
Evidence  from  them  talk  ? The  vibrations  which 
Whatdwe Ufe*  reach  my  ears  are  the  same  as  those 
Sterling  and  which  strike  theirs.  Yet  I perceive 
‘motor'  The  only  a confused  noise,  in  which  all 
diagram.’  sounds  are  alike.  I distinguish  no- 
thing, and  could  not  repeat  anything.  In  this 
same  sonorous  mass,  however,  the  two  interlo- 
cutors distinguish  consonants,  vowels  and  sylla- 
bles which  are  not  at  all  alike,  in  short,  separate 
words.  Between  them  and  me  where  is  the 
difference  ? 

The  question  is,  how  can  the  knowledge  of  a 
language,  which  is  only  memory,  modify  the 
material  content  of  a present  perception,  and 
cause  some  listeners  actually  to  hear  what 
others,  in  the  same  physical  conditions,  do  not 
hear.  It  is  alleged,  indeed,  that  the  auditory 


chap,  n RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  I35 

recollections  of  words,  accumulated  in  memory, 
are  called  up  by  the  sound-impression  and  come 
to  strengthen  its  effect.  But  if  the  conversa- 
tion to  which  I listen  is,  for  me,  only  a noise, 
we  may  suppose  the  sound  increased  as  much 
as  we  like  : the  noise  will  be  none  the  more 
intelligible  for  being  louder.  I grant  that  the 
memory  of  a word  will  be  called  up  by  the  sound 
of  that  word : yet  it  is  necessary,  for  this,  that 
the  sound  of  the  word  should  have  been  heard 
by  the  ear.  How  can  the  sounds  perceived  speak 
to  memory,  how  can  they  choose,  in  the  store- 
house of  auditory  images,  those  which  should 
come  to  rejoin  them,  unless  they  have  been  al- 
ready separated,  distinguished, — in  short,  per- 
ceived,— as  syllables  and  as  words  ? 

This  difficulty  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
sufficiently  noticed  by  the  theorists  of  sensory 
aphasia.  For  in  word  deafness  the  patient  finds 
himself,  in  regard  to  his  own  language,  in  the 
same  position  as  we  all  are  when  we  hear  an 
unknown  tongue.  He  has  generally  preserved 
intact  his  sense  of  hearing,  but  he  has  no  under- 
standing of  the  words  spoken  to  him,  and  is  fre- 
quently even  unable  to  distinguish  them.  The 
explanation  generally  given  of  the  disease  is 
that  the  auditory  recollection  of  words  has 
been  destroyed  in  the  cortex,  or  that  a lesion, 
sometimes  transcortical,  sometimes  sub-cortical, 
hinders  the  auditive  memory  from  evoking  the 
idea,  or  the  perception  from  uniting  with  the 


136 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


memory.  But  in  the  latter  case,  at  least,  the 
psychological  question  has  still  to  be  answered: 
what  is  the  conscious  process  which  the  lesion 
has  abolished,  and  what  is  the  intermediary  pro- 
cess that  we  go  through  in  our  normal  condition 
in  order  to  discern  words  and  syllables  which  are, 
at  first,  given  to  the  ear  as  a continuity  of  sound  ? 

The  difficulty  would  be  insuperable  if  we  really 
had  only  auditory  impressions  on  the  one  hand, 
and  auditory  memories  on  the  other.  Not  so 
however,  if  auditory  impressions  organize  nascent 
movements,  capable  of  scanning  the  phrase  which 
is  heard  and  of  emphasizing  its  main  articulations. 
These  automatic  movements  of  internal  accom- 
paniment, at  first  undecided  or  uncoordinated, 
might  become  more  precise  by  repetition  ; they 
would  end  by  sketching  a simplified  figure  in 
which  the  listener  would  find,  in  their  main  lines 
and  principal  directions,  the  very  movements  of 
the  speaker.  Thus  would  unfold  itself  in  con- 
sciousness, under  the  form  of  nascent  muscular 
sensations,  the  motor  diagram,  as  it  were,  of  the 
speech  we  hear.  To  adapt  our  hearing  to  a 
new  language  would  then  consist,  at  the  outset, 
neither  in  modifying  the  crude  sound  nor  in  sup- 
plementing the  sounds  with  memories  ; it  would 
be  to  coordinate  the  motor  tendencies  of  the  mus- 
cular apparatus  of  the  voice  to  the  impressions  of 
the  ear  ; it  would  be  to  perfect  the  motor  accom- 
paniment. 

In  learning  a physical  exercise,  we  begin  by 


chap,  n RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  I37 

imitating  the  movement  as  a whole,  as  our  eyes 
see  it  from  without,  as  we  think  we  have  seen  it 
done.  Our  perception  of  it  is  confused  ; confused 
therefore  will  be  the  movement  whereby  we  try  to 
repeat  it.  But  whereas  our  visual  perception  was 
of  a continuous  whole,  the  movement  by  which  we 
endeavour  to  reconstruct  the  image  is  compound 
and  made  up  of  a multitude  of  muscular  contrac- 
tions and  tensions  ; and  our  consciousness  of  these 
itself  includes  a number  of  sensations  resulting 
from  the  varied  play  of  the  articulations.  The 
confused  movement  which  copies  the  image  is, 
then,  already  its  virtual  decomposition  ; it  bears 
within  itself,  so  to  speak,  its  own  analysis.  The 
progress  which  is  brought  about  by  repetition  and 
practice  consists  merely  in  unfolding  what  was 
previously  wrapped  up,  in  bestowing  on  each  of 
the  elementary  movements  that  autonomy  which 
ensures  precision,  without,  however,  breaking  up 
that  solidarity  with  the  others  without  which  it 
would  become  useless.  We  are  right  when  we 
say  that  habit  is  formed  by  the  repetition  of  an 
effort ; but  what  would  be  the  use  of  repeating 
it,  if  the  result  were  always  to  reproduce  the  same 
thing  ? The  true  effect  of  repetition  is  to  decom- 
pose, and  then  to  recompose,  and  thus  appeal  to 
the  intelligence  of  the  body.  At  each  new  attempt 
it  separates  movements  which  were  interpenetrat- 
ing; each  time  it  calls  the  attention  of  the  body 
to  a new  detail  which  had  passed  unperceived  ; 
it  bids  the  body  discriminate  and  classify;  it 


138 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


teaches  what  is  the  essential ; it  points  out, 
one  after  another,  within  the  total  movement, 
the  lines  that  mark  off  its  internal  structure. 
In  this  sense,  a movement  is  learnt  when  the 
body  has  been  made  to  understand  it. 

So  a motor  accompaniment  of  speech  may  well 
break  the  continuity  of  the  mass  of  sound.  But  we 
But  this  have  now  to  point  out  in  what  this 
Mmpaniment  accompaniment  consists.  Is  it  speech 
speechhaai-  ^ self  > repeated  internally  ? If  this  were 
itstesaiient  s0>  the  child  would  be  able  to  repeat  all 
outlines.  the  worcis  that  its  ear  can  distinguish  ; 
and  we  ourselves  should  only  need  to  understand 
a foreign  language  to  be  able  to  pronounce  it 
with  a correct  accent.  The  matter  is  far  from 
being  so  simple.  I may  be  able  to  catch  a tune, 
to  follow  its  phrasing,  even  to  fix  it  in  memory, 
without  being  able  to  sing  it.  I can  easily  dis- 
tinguish the  peculiarities  of  inflexion  and  tone  in 
an  Englishman  speaking  German — I correct  him 
therefore,  mentally  ; — but  it  by  no  means  follows 
that  I could  give  the  right  inflexion  and  tone  to 
the  German  phrase,  if  I were  to  utter  it.  Here, 
moreover,  the  observation  of  every-day  life  is 
confirmed  by  clinical  facts.  It  is  still  possible  to 
follow  and  understand  speech  when  one  has  be- 
come incapable  of  speaking.  Motor  aphasia  does 
not  involve  word  deafness. 

This  is  because  the  diagram,  by  means  of  which 
we  divide  up  the  speech  we  hear,  indicates  only 
its  salient  outlines.  It  is  to  speech  itself  what 


chap,  ii  RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  I39 


the  rough  sketch  is  to  the  finished  picture.  For  it 
is  one  thing  to  understand  a difficult  movement, 
another  to  be  able  to  carry  it  out.  To  under- 
stand it,  we  need  only  to  realize  in  it  what  is 
essential,  just  enough  to  distinguish  it  from  all 
other  possible  movements.  But  to  be  able  to 
carry  it  out,  we  must  besides  have  brought  our 
body  to  understand  it.  Now,  the  logic  of  the  body 
admits  of  no  tacit  implications.  It  demands 
that  all  the  constituent  parts  of  the  required 
movement  shall  be  set  forth  one  by  one,  and 
then  put  together  again.  Here  a complete  analysis 
is  necessary,  in  which  no  detail  is  neglected, 
and  an  actual  synthesis,  in  which  nothing  is 
curtailed.  The  imagined  diagram,  composed  of 
a few  nascent  muscular  sensations,  is  but  a sketch. 
The  muscular  sensations,  really  and  completely 
experienced,  give  it  colour  and  life. 

It  remains  to  be  considered  how  an  accom- 
paniment of  this  kind  can  be  produced,  and 
Evidence  whether  it  really  is  always  produced. 
formso£tam  We  know  that  in  order  effectively  to 
aphasia,  in  pronounce  a word  the  tongue  and  lips 
^tc0jthe  must  articulate,  the  larynx  must  be 
seems  to  be  brought  into  play  for  phonation,  and 
affected.  the  muscies  0f  the  chest  must  produce 
an  expiratory  movement  of  air.  Thus,  to  every 
syllable  uttered  there  corresponds  the  play  of  a 
number  of  mechanisms  already  prepared  in  the 
cerebral  and  bulbar  centres.  These  mechanisms 
are  joined  to  the  higher  centres  of  the  cortex  by 


140 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


the  axis-cylinder  processes  of  the  pyramidal  cells 
in  the  psycho-motor  zone.  Along  this  path  the 
impulse  of  the  will  travels.  So,  when  we  desire 
to  articulate  this  or  that  sound,  we  transmit  the 
order  to  act  to  this  or  that  group  of  motor  me- 
chanisms selected  from  among  them  all.  But, 
while  the  ready-made  mechanisms  which  corres- 
pond to  the  various  possible  movements  of  articu- 
lation and  phonation  are  connected  with  the  causes 
(whatever  these  may  be)  which  set  them  to  work 
in  voluntary  speech,  there  are  facts  which  put 
beyond  all  doubt  the  linkage  of  these  same  mechan- 
isms with  the  auditory  perception  of  words.  First 
of  all,  among  the  numerous  varieties  of  aphasia  de- 
scribed in  clinical  reports,  we  know  of  two  (Licht- 
heim’s  4th  and  6th  forms)  which  appear  to  imply 
a relation  of  this  kind.  Thus,  in  a case  observed 
by  Lichtheim  himself,  the  subject  had  lost,  as  the 
result  of  a fall,  the  memory  of  the  articulation 
of  words,  and  consequently  the  faculty  of  spon- 
taneous speech  ; yet  he  repeated  quite  correctly 
what  was  said  to  him.1  On  the  other  hand,  in 
cases  where  spontaneous  speech  is  unaffected, 
but  where  word  deafness  is  absolute  and  the 
patient  no  longer  understands  what  is  said  to 
him,  the  faculty  of  repeating  another  person’s  words 
may  still  be  completely  retained.2  It  may  be 
said,  with  Bastian,  that  these  phenomena  merely 
point  to  a fatigue  of  the  articulatory  or  auditive 

1 Lichtheim,  On  Aphasia  {Brain,  Jan.  1885,  p.  447). 

2 Ibid.,  p.  454. 


chap,  a RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  I4I 

memory  of  words,  the  acoustic  impressions  only 
serving  to  awaken  that  memory  from  its  torpor.1 
We  may  have  to  allow  for  this  hypothesis,  but  it 
does  not  appear  to  us  to  account  for  the  curious 
phenomena  of  echolalia,  long  since  pointed  out 
by  Romberg,2  Voisin3  and  Forbes  Winslow,4 
which  are  termed  by  Kussmaul5  (probably  with 
some  exaggeration)  acoustic  reflexes.  Here  the 
subject  repeats  mechanically,  and  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously, the  words  he  hears,  as  though  the  auditory 
sensations  converted  themselves  automatically 
into  movements  of  articulation.  From  these 
facts  some  have  inferred  that  there  is  a special 
mechanism  which  unites  a so-called  acoustic  cen- 
tre of  words  with  an  articulatory  centre  of  speech.6 
The  truth  appears  to  lie  between  these  two  hypo- 
theses. There  is  more  in  these  various  phenomena 
than  absolutely  mechanical  actions,  but  less  than 
an  appeal  to  voluntary  memory.  They  testify 
to  a tendency  of  verbal  auditory  impressions  to 

1 Bastian,  On  Different  Kinds  of  Aphasia  { British  Medical 
Journal,  Oct.  and  Nov.  1887,  p.  935). 

2 Romberg,  Lehrbuch  der  Nervenkrankheiten,  1853,  vol.  ii. 

3 Quoted  by  Bateman,  On  Aphasia.  London,  1890,  p.  79. — 
Cf.  Marce,  Memoire  sur  quelques  observations  de  physiologie 
pathologique  {Mem.  de  la  Soc.  de  Biologie,  2nd  series,  vol.  ii, 
p.  102). 

4 Forbes  Winslow,  On  Obscure  Diseases  of  the  Brain. 
London,  1861,  p.  505. 

6 Kussmaul,  Die  Storungen  der  Sprache,  Leipzig.  1877,  PP- 
55  et  seq. 

6 Amaud,  Contribution  d l' etude  clinique  de  la  surdite  verbale 
[Arch,  de  neurologie,  1886,  p.  192). — Spamer,  Ueber  Asymbolie 
{Arch.  f.  Psychiatrie,  vol.  vi,  pp.  507  and  524). 


142 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP,  11 


prolong  themselves  in  movements  of  articulation ; 
a tendency  which  assuredly  does  not  escape,  as 
a rule,  the  control  of  the  will,  perhaps  even  im- 
plies a rudimentary  discrimination,  and  expresses 
itself,  in  the  normal  state,  by  an  internal  repe- 
tition of  the  striking  features  of  the  words  that 
are  heard.  Now  our  motor  diagram  is  nothing 
else. 

Considering  this  hypothesis  more  closely,  we 
shall  perhaps  find  in  it  the  psychological  explana- 
tion, which  we  were  just  now  seeking,  of  certain 
forms  of  word  deafness.  A few  cases  of  word 
deafness  are  known  where  there  was  a com- 
plete survival  of  acoustic  memory.  The  patient 
had  retained,  unimpaired,  both  the  auditive 
memory  of  words  and  the  sense  of  hearing ; 
yet  he  recognized  no  word  that  was  said  to 
him.1  A subcortical  lesion  is  here  supposed, 
which  prevents  the  acoustic  impressions  from 
going  to  join  the  verbal  auditory  images  in  the 
cortical  centres  where  they  are  supposed  to  be 
deposited.  But,  in  the  first  place,  the  question 
is  whether  the  brain  can  store  up  images.  And, 
secondly,  even  if  it  were  proved  that  there  is 
some  lesion  in  the  paths  that  the  acoustic  impres- 
sions have  to  follow,  we  should  still  be  compelled 
to  seek  a psychological  interpretation  of  the  final 

1 See,  in  particular : P.  Serieux,  Sur  un  cas  de  surdite 
verbale  pure  ( Revue  de  Medecine,  1893,  p.  733  et  seq.)  ; Licht- 
heim,  loc.  cit.,  p.  461  ; and  Arnaud,  Contrib.  d I’etude  de  la 
surdite  verbale  (2' article),  Arch,  de  Neurologie,  1886,  p.366. 


chap,  n RECOLLECTIONS  AND  MOVEMENTS  I43 

result.  For,  by  hypothesis,  the  auditory  memories 
can  still  be  recalled  to  consciousness  ; by  hypo- 
thesis also,  the  auditory  impressions  still  reach 
consciousness  ; there  must  therefore  be  in  con- 
sciousness itself  a gap,  a solution  of  continuity, 
something,  whatever  it  is,  which  hinders  the 
perception  from  joining  the  memories.  Now,  we 
may  throw  some  light  on  the  case  if  we  remember 
that  crude  auditory  perception  is  really  that  of 
a continuity  of  sound,  and  that  the  sensori-motor 
connexions  established  by  habit  must  have  as 
their  office,  in  the  normal  state,  to  decompose  this 
continuity.  A lesion  of  these  conscious  mechan- 
isms, by  hindering  the  decomposition,  might 
completely  check  the  up-rush  of  memories  which 
tend  to  alight  upon  the  corresponding  perceptions. 
Therefore  the  ‘ motor  diagram  ’ might  be  what  is 
injured  by  the  lesion.  If  we  pass  in  review  the 
cases  (which  are,  indeed,  not  very  numerous)  of 
word  deafness  where  acoustic  memories  were 
retained,  we  notice  certain  details  that  are  inter- 
esting in  this  respect.  Adler  notes,  as  a remark- 
able fact  in  word  deafness,  that  the  patients  no 
longer  react  even  to  the  loudest  sounds,  though 
their  hearing  has  preserved  all  its  acuteness.1 
In  other  words,  sound  no  longer  finds  in  them  its 
motor  echo.  A patient  of  Charcot’s,  attacked  by 
a passing  word  deafness,  relates  that  he  heard 
his  clock  strike,  but  that  he  could  not  count  the 

1 Adler,  Beitrag  zur  Kenntniss  der  seltneren  Formen  von 
sensorischer  Aphasie  ( Neurol . Centralblatt,  1891,  p.  296  et  seq.). 


I44 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP,  tl 


strokes.1  Probably  he  was  unable  to  separate 
and  distinguish  them.  Another  patient  declares 
that  he  perceives  the  words  of  a conversation, 
but  as  a confused  noise.2  Lastly,  the  patient 
who  has  lost  the  understanding  of  the  spoken 
word  recovers  it  if  the  word  is  repeated  to  him 
several  times,  and  especially  if  it  is  pronounced 
with  marked  divisions,  syllable  by  syllable.3 
This  last  fact,  observed  in  several  cases  of  word 
deafness  where  acoustic  memories  were  unim- 
paired, is  particularly  significant. 

Strieker’s4  mistake  was  to  believe  in  a complete 
internal  repetition  of  the  words  that  are  heard. 
His  assertion  is  already  contradicted  by  the 
simple  fact  that  we  do  not  know  of  a single 
case  of  motor  aphasia  which  brought  out  word 
deafness.  But  all  the  facts  combine  to  prove 
the  existence  of  a motor  tendency  to  separate 
the  sounds  and  to  establish  their  diagram.  This 
automatic  tendency  is  not  without  (as  we  said 
above)  a certain  elementary  mental  effort : how 
otherwise  could  we  identify  with  each  other, 
and  consequently  follow  with  the  same  diagram, 


1 Bernard,  De  VAphasie.  Paris,  1889,  p.  143. 

2 Ballet,  Le  langage  interieur.  Paris,  1888,  p.  85. 

3 See  the  three  cases  cited  by  Arnaud  in  the  Archives  de 
neurologie,  1886,  p.  366  et  seq.  ( Contrib . clinique  cl  V etude  de  la 
surdite  verbale,  2e  article). — Cf.  Schmidt’s  case,  Gehors-  und 
Sprachstdrung  in  Folge  von  Apoplexie  ( Allg . Zeitschriften  f. 
Psychiatrie,  1871,  vol.  xxvii,  p.  304). 

4 Strieker,  Studieniiber  die  Sprachvorstellung.  Vienna,  1880. 


CHAP.  II 


REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES 


145 


similar  words  pronounced  on  different  notes 
and  by  different  qualities  of  voice  ? These 
inner  movements  of  repeating  and  recognizing 
are  like  a prelude  to  voluntary  attention.  They 
mark  the  limit  between  the  voluntary  and  the 
automatic.  By  them,  as  we  hinted  before,  the 
characteristic  phenomena  of  intellectual  recogni- 
tion are  first  prepared  and  then  determined. 
But  what  is  this  complete  and  fully  conscious 
recognition  ? 

2.  We  come  to  the  second  part  of  our  subject : 
from  movements  we  pass  to  memories.  We  have 
Transition  to  sa-id  that  attentive  recognition  is  a kind 
probfemof  °f  circuit,  in  which  the  external  object 
whyPimstion’  yields  to  us  deeper  and  deeper  parts 
t^reduce6  °f  itself,  as  our  memory  adopts  a 
toTmechanf-  correspondingly  higher  degree  of  tension 
eai  process.  jn  or(jer  to  project  recollections  towards 
it.  In  the  particular  case  we  are  now  considering, 
the  object  is  an  interlocutor  whose  ideas  develop 
within  his  consciousness  into  auditory  representa- 
tions which  are  then  materialized  into  uttered 
words.  So,  if  we  are  right,  the  hearer  places  him- 
self at  once  in  the  midst  of  the  corresponding  ideas, 
and  then  develops  them  into  acoustic  memories 
which  go  out  to  overlie  the  crude  sounds  perceived, 
while  fitting  themselves  into  the  motor  diagram. 
To  follow  an  arithmetical  addition  is  to  do  it 
over  again  for  ourselves.  To  understand  another’s 
words  is,  in  like  manner,  to  reconstruct  intelli- 

L 


146 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


gently,  starting  from  the  ideas,  the  continuity  of 
sound  which  the  ear  perceives.  And,  more  gener- 
ally, to  attend,  to  recognize  intellectually,  to 
interpret,  may  be  summed  up  in  a single  opera- 
tion whereby  the  mind,  having  chosen  its  level, 
having  selected  within  itself,  with  reference  to 
the  crude  perceptions,  the  point  that  is  exactly 
symmetrical  with  their  more  or  less  immediate 
cause,  allows  to  flow  towards  them  the  memories 
that  will  go  out  to  overlie  them. 

Such,  however,  is  certainly  not  the  usual  way 
of  looking  at  the  matter.  The  associationist  habit 
is  there  ; and,  in  accordance  with  it,  we  find  men 
maintaining  that,  by  the  mere  effect  of  contiguity, 
the  perception  of  a sound  brings  back  the  memory 
of  the  sound  and  memories  bring  back  the  cor- 
responding ideas.  And  then,  we  have  the  cerebral 
lesions  which  seem  to  bring  about  a destruction  of 
memories  ; more  particularly,  in  the  case  we  are 
studying,  there  are  the  lesions  of  the  brain  found 
in  word  deafness.  Thus  psychological  observa- 
tions and  clinical  facts  seem  to  conspire.  To- 
gether they  seem  to  point  to  the  existence,  within 
the  cortex,  of  auditory  memories  slumbering, 
whether  as  a physico-chemical  modification  of  cer- 
tain cells  or  under  some  other  form.  A sensory 
stimulation  is  then  supposed  to  awaken  them  ; 
and,  finally,  by  an  intra-cerebral  process,  perhaps 
by  trans-cortical  movements  that  go  to  find  the 
complementary  representations,  they  are  supposed 
to  evoke  ideas. 


CB  Aff.  II 


REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES 


147 


in  the  brain, 
there  would 
be  thousands 
of  images  for 
each  single 
word : and 
then  they 
would  be 
useless. 


Now  consider  lor  a moment  the  amazing  con- 
sequences of  an  hypothesis  of  this  kind.  The 
auditory  image  of  a word  is  not  an 
images!°for  object  with  well-defined  outlines;  for 
the  same  word  pronounced  by  different 
voices,  or  by  the  same  voice  on  different 
notes,  gives  a different  sound.  So,  if 
you  adopt  the  hypothesis  of  which  we 
have  been  speaking,  you  must  assume 
that  there  are  as  many  auditory  images 
of  the  same  word  as  there  are  pitches  of 
sound  and  qualities  of  voice.  Do  you  mean  that 
all  these  images  are  treasured  up  in  the  brain  ? 
Or  is  it  that  the  brain  chooses  ? If  the  brain 
chooses  one  of  them,  whence  comes  its  pre- 
ference ? Suppose,  even,  that  you  can  explain 
why  the  brain  chooses  one  or  the  other  ; how 
is  it  that  this  same  word,  uttered  by  a new 
person,  gives  a sound  which,  although  different, 
is  still  able  to  rejoin  the  same  memory  ? For 
you  must  bear  in  mind  that  this  memory  is 
supposed  to  be  an  inert  and  passive  thing  and 
consequently  incapable  of  discovering,  beneath 
external  differences,  an  internal  similitude.  You 
speak  of  the  auditory  image  of  a word  as  if  it 
were  an  entity  or  a genus  : such  a genus  can, 
indeed,  be  constructed  by  an  active  memory 
which  extracts  the  resemblance  of  several  com- 
plex sounds  and  only  retains,  as  it  were,  their 
common  diagram.  But,  for  a brain  that  is  sup- 
posed— nay,  is  bound — to  record  only  the  materi- 


*4^  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  ii 

ality  of  the  sounds  perceived,  there  must  be,  of 
one  and  the  same  word,  thousands  of  distinct 
images.  Uttered  by  a new  voice,  it  will  constitute  a 
new  image,  which  will  simply  be  added  to  the  others. 

But  there  is  something  still  more  perplexing. 
A word  has  an  individuality  for  us  only  from  the 
moment  that  we  have  been  taught  to  abstract 
it.  What  we  first  hear  are  short  phrases,  not  words. 
A word  is  always  continuous  with  the  other 
words  which  accompany  it,  and  takes  different 
aspects  according  to  the  cadence  and  movement 
of  the  sentence  in  which  it  is  set  : just  as  each 
note  of  a melody  vaguely  reflects  the  whole  musi- 
cal phrase.  Suppose,  then,  that  there  are  indeed 
model  auditory  memories,  consisting  in  certain 
i ntra-cerebral  arrangements,  and  lying  in  wait  for 
analogous  impressions  of  sound : these  impressions 
may  come,  but  they  will  pass  unrecognized.  How 
could  there  be  a common  measure,  how  could 
there  be  a point  of  contact,  between  the  dry, 
inert,  isolated  image  and  the  living  reality  of  the 
word  organized  with  the  rest  of  the  phrase  ? 
I understand  clearly  enough  that  beginning  of  auto- 
matic recognition  which  would  consist,  as  I have 
said  above,  in  emphasizing  inwardly  the  principal 
divisions  of  the  sentence  that  is  heard,  and  so 
in  adopting  its  movement.  But,  unless  we  are  to 
suppose  in  all  men  identical  voices  pronouncing 
in  the  same  tone  the  same  stereotyped  phrases, 
I fail  to  see  how  the  words  we  hear  are  able  to 
rejoin  their  images  in  the  brain. 


CHAP.  II. 


REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES 


149 


Now,  if  memories  are  really  deposited  in  the 
cortical  cells,  we  should  find  in  sensory  aphasia, 
The  pheno-  for  instance,  the  irreparable  loss  of 
sory  aphasisfdo  certain  determined  words,  the  integral 
existence  of  conservation  ot  others.  But,  as  a mat- 
but  smsestk  ter  of  fact,  things  happen  quite  differ- 
hypothesis.  ently.  Sometimes  it  is  the  whole  set 
of  memories  that  disappears,  the  faculty  of 
mental  hearing  being  purely  and  simply  abol- 
ished ; sometimes  there  is  a general  weakening  of 
the  function  ; but  it  is  usually  the  function  which 
is  diminished  and  not  the  number  of  recollections. 
It  seems  as  if  the  patient  had  no  longer  strength 
to  grasp  his  acoustic  memories,  as  if  he  turned 
round  about  the  verbal  image  without  being  able 
to  hit  upon  it.  To  enable  him  to  recover  a word 
it  is  often  enough  to  put  him  on  the  track  of  it, 
by  giving  him  its  first  syllable,1  or  even  by  merely 
encouraging  him.2  An  emotion  may  produce 
the  same  effect.3  There  are,  however,  cases  in 
which  it  does  indeed  seem  that  definite  groups 
of  representations  have  disappeared  from  memory. 
I have  passed  in  review  a large  number  of  these 
facts,  and  it  has  seemed  that  they  could  be  referred 

1 Bernard,  op.  cit.,  pp.  172  and  179.  Cf.  Babil^e,  Les  troubles 
de  la  memoir e dans  V alcoolisme.  Paris,  1886  (medical  thesis), 
p.  44. 

2 Rieger,  Beschreibung  der  I nielli genzstor  ungen  in  Folge 
einer  Hirnverletzung.  Wurzburg,  1889,  p.  35. 

3 Wernicke,  Der  aphasische  Symptomencomplex.  Breslau, 
1874,  p.  39. — Cf.  Valentin,  Sur  un  cas  d’aphasie  d’origine 
traumatique  ( Revue  medicate  de  I'Est,  1880,  p.  171). 


150  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  it 

to  two  absolutely  distinct  categories.  In  the 
first,  the  loss  of  memories  is  usually  abrupt ; 
in  the  second,  it  is  progressive.  In  the  first,  the 
recollections  detached  from  memory  are  arbitrarily 
and  even  capriciously  chosen  : they  may  be  certain 
words,  certain  figures,  or  often  all  the  words 
of  an  acquired  language.  In  the  second,  the 
disappearance  of  the  words  is  governed  by  a 
methodical  and  grammatical  order,  that  which  is 
indicated  by  Ribot’s  law  : proper  names  go  first, 
then  common  nouns,  and  lastly  verbs.1  Such 
are  the  external  differences.  Now  this,  I believe, 
is  the  internal  difference.  In  the  amnesias  of  the 
first  type,  which  are  nearly  always  the  result  of 
a violent  shock,  I incline  to  think  that  the 
memories  which  are  apparently  destroyed  are 
really  present,  and  not  only  present  but  acting. 
To  take  an  example  frequently  borrowed  from 
Forbes  Winslow,2  that  of  a patient  who  had 
forgotten  the  letter  F,  and  the  letter  F only, 
I wonder  how  it  is  possible  to  subtract  a given 
letter  wherever  met  with, — to  detach  it,  that 
is,  from  the  spoken  or  written  words  in  which 
it  occurs, — if  it  were  not  first  implicitly  re- 
cognized. In  another  case  cited  by  the  same 
author,3  the  patient  had  forgotten  languages 

1 Ribot,  Les  maladies  de  la  memoire.  Paris,  1881,  p.  131 
et  seq. 

2 Forbes  Winslow,  On  Obscure  Diseases  of  the  Brain.  London, 
1861. 

3 Ibid.,  p.  372 


CHAP.  II 


REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES 


151 


he  had  learnt  and  poems  he  had  written.  Hav- 
ing begun  to  write  again,  he  reproduced  nearly 
the  same  lines.  Moreover,  in  such  cases  the  patient 
may  often  recover  the  lost  memories.  Without 
wishing  to  be  too  dogmatic  on  a question  of  this 
kind,  we  cannot  avoid  noticing  the  analogy  be- 
tween these  phenomena  and  that  dividing  of 
the  self  of  which  instances  have  been  described 
by  Pierre  Janet  : 1 some  of  them  bear  a remark- 
able resemblance  to  the  ‘ negative  hallucinations,’ 
and  suggestions  with  point  de  replre,  induced  by 
hypnotizers.2 — Entirely  different  are  the  aphasias 
of  the  second  kind,  which  are  indeed  the  true 
aphasias.  These  are  due,  as  we  shall  try  to 
show  presently,  to  the  progressive  diminution 
of  a well- localized  function,  the  faculty  of  actual- 
izing the  recollection  of  words.  How  are  we  to 
explain  the  fact  that  amnesia  here  follows  a 
methodical  course,  beginning  with  proper  nouns 
and  ending  with  verbs  ? We  could  hardly  explain 
it  if  the  verbal  images  were  really  deposited  in 


1 Pierre  Janet,  Etat  mental  des  hysteriques.  Paris,  1894, 
vol.  ii,  p.  263  et  seq. — Cf.  L’ Automatisme  psychologique,  by 
the  same  author,  Paris,  1889. 

2 See  Grashey’s  case,  studied  afresh  by  Sommer,  and  by 
him  declared  to  be  inexplicable  by  the  existing  theories  of 
aphasia.  In  this  instance,  the  movements  executed  by  the 
patient  seem  to  me  to  have  been  signals  addressed  by  him 
to  an  independent  memory.  (Sommer,  Zur  Psychologie  der 
Sprache,  Zeitschr.  f.  Psychol,  u.  Physiol,  der  Sinnesorgane,vo\. 
ii,  1891,  p.  143  et  seq.) — Cf.  Sommer’s  paper  at  the  Con- 
gress of  German  Alienists,  Arch,  de  Neurologie,  vol.  xxiv,  1892). 


152 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


the  cells  of  the  cortex  : it  would  be  wonderful 
indeed  that  disease  should  always  attack  these 
cells  in  the  same  order.1  But  the  fact  can  be 
explained,  if  we  admit  that  memories  need,  for 
their  actualization,  a motor  ally,  and  that  they 
require  for  their  recall  a kind  of  mental  attitude 
which  must  itself  be  engrafted  upon  an  attitude 
of  the  body.  If  such  be  the  case,  verbs  in  gene- 
ral, which  essentially  express  imitable  actions,  are 
precisely  the  words  that  a bodily  effort  might 
enable  us  to  recapture  when  the  function  of 
language  has  all  but  escaped  us : proper  names, 
on  the  other  hand,  being  of  all  words  the  most 
remote  from  those  impersonal  actions  which  our 
body  can  sketch  out,  are  those  which  a weaken- 
ing of  the  function  will  earliest  affect.  It  is  a 
noteworthy  fact  that  the  aphasic  patient,  who 
has  become  as  a rule  incapable  of  finding 
the  noun  he  seeks,  may  replace  it  by  an 
appropriate  periphrasis  into  which  other  nouns,2 
and  perhaps  even  the  evasive  noun  itself, 
enter.  Unable  to  think  of  the  precise  word, 
he  has  thought  of  the  corresponding  action,  and 
this  attitude  has  determined  the  general  direction 
of  a movement  from  which  the  phrase  then 
springs.  So  likewise  it  may  happen  to  any  of  us. 
that,  having  retained  the  initial  of  a forgotten 
name,  we  recover  the  name  by  repeating  the 

1 Wundt,  Grundziige  der  physiologische  Psychologie. 
Leipzig,  1903,  vol  i,  314-315. 

2 Bernard,  De  I'aphasie.  Paris,  1889,  pp.  171  and  174. 


CHAP.  II 


REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES 


153 


initial.1 — Therefore,  in  facts  of  the  second  kind, 
it  is  the  function  that  is  attacked  as  a whole, 
and  in  those  of  the  first  kind  the  forgetting, 
though  in  appearance  more  complete,  is  never 
really  final.  Neither  in  the  one  case  nor  in  the 
other  do  we  find  memories  localized  in  certain 
cells  of  the  cerebral  substance  and  abolished  by 
their  destruction. 

But  let  us  question  our  own  consciousness,  and 
ask  of  it  what  happens  when  we  listen  to  the  words 
what  intro-  of  another  person  with  the  desire  to 
tosay’on'the  understand  them.  Do  we  passively  wait 
for  the  impressions  to  go  in  search  of 
their  images  ? Do  we  not  rather  feel  that  we 
are  adopting  a certain  disposition  which  varies 
with  our  interlocutor,  with  the  language  he 
speaks,  with  the  nature  of  the  ideas  which  he 
expresses, — and  varies,  above  all,  with  the  general 
movement  of  his  phrase,  as  though  we  were  choos- 
ing the  key  in  which  our  own  intellect  is  called 
upon  to  play  ? The  motor  diagram,  emphasizing 
his  utterance,  following  through  all  its  windings 
the  curve  of  his  thought,  shows  our  thought  the 
road.  It  is  the  empty  vessel,  which  determines, 
by  its  form,  the  form  which  the  fluid  mass,  rush- 
ing into  it,  already  tends  to  take. 

But  psychologists  may  be  unwilling  to  explain 

1 Graves  cites  the  case  of  a patient  who  had  forgotten  all 
names  but  remembered  their  initial,  and  by  that  means  was 
able  to  recover  them  (quoted  by  Bernard,  De  I'aphasie, 
p.  179). 


154 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap.  It 


in  this  way  the  mechanism  of  interpretation, 
current  errors  because  of  the  invincible  tendency  which 
point'are  impels  us  to  think  on  all  occasions  of 
tendency  of  things  rather  than  of  movements.  We 
think  ^ t0  have  said  that  we  start  from  the  idea, 
tharf  ofiath6r  and  that  we  develop  it  into  auditory 
movement,  memory-images  capable  of  inserting 
themselves  in  the  motor  diagram,  so  as  to  over- 
lie  the  sounds  we  hear.  We  have  here  a con- 
tinuous movement,  by  which  the  nebulosity  of 
the  idea  is  condensed  into  distinct  auditory 
images,  which,  still  fluid,  will  be  finally  solidified  as 
they  coalesce  with  the  sounds  materially  perceived 
At  no  moment  is  it  possible  to  say  with  precision 
that  the  idea  or  the  memory-image  ends,  that  the 
memory-image  or  the  sensation  begins.  And,  in 
fact,  where  is  the  dividing  line  between  the  confu- 
sion of  sounds  perceived  in  the  lump  and  the  clear- 
ness which  the  remembered  auditory  ^nages  add  to 
them,  between  the  discontinuity  of  these  remem- 
bered images  themselves  and  the  continuity  of 
the  original  idea  which  they  dissociate  and  refract 
into  distinct  words  ? But  scientific  thought, 
analysing  this  unbroken  series  of  changes,  and 
yielding  to  an  irresistible  need  of  symbolic  present- 
ment, arrests  and  solidifies  into  finished  things  the 
principal  phases  of  this  development.  It  erects 
the  crude  sounds  heard  into  separate  and  complete 
words,  then  the  remembered  auditory  images  into 
entities  independent  of  the  idea  they  develop  : 
these  three  terms,  crude  perception,  auditory  image 


chap,  n REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES  155 

and  idea,  are  thus  made  into  distinct  wholes 
of  which  each  is  supposed  to  be  self-sufficing. 
And  while,  if  we  really  confined  ourselves  to  pure 
experience,  the  idea  is  what  we  should  start  from — 
since  it  is  to  the  idea  that  the  auditory  memories 
owe  their  connexion  and  since  it  is  by  the  memo- 
ries that  the  crude  sounds  become  completed, — 
on  the  contrary,  when  once  we  have  arbitrarily 
supposed  the  crude  sound  to  be  by  itself  com- 
plete, and  arbitrarily  also  assumed  the  memories 
to  be  connected  together,  we  see  no  harm  in  re- 
versing the  real  order  of  the  processes,  and  in 
asserting  that  we  go  from  the  perception  to  the 
memories  and  from  the  memories  to  the  idea. 
Nevertheless,  we  cannot  help  feeling  that  we  must 
bring  back  again,  under  one  form  or  another,  at 
one  moment  or  another,  the  continuity  which  we 
have  thus  broken  between  the  perception,  the  mem- 
ory and  the  idea.  So  we  make  out  that  these  three 
things,  each  lodged  in  a certain  portion  of  the  cortex 
or  of  the  medulla,  intercommunicate,  the  percep- 
tions going  to  awaken  the  auditory  memories, 
and  the  memories  going  to  rouse  up  the  ideas. 
As  we  have  begun  by  solidifying  into  distinct  and 
independent  things  what  were  only  phases — the 
main  phases — of  a continuous  development,  we 
go  on  materializing  the  development  itself  into 
lines  of  communication,  contacts  and  impulsions. 
But  not  with  impunity  can  we  thus  invert  the 
true  order,  and  as  a necessary  consequence,  intro- 
duce into  each  term  of  the  series  elements  which 


MAYTKR  AND  MEMUW 


CWAJ*.  T1 


150 

are  only  realized  by  those  that  follow.  Not  with 
impunity,  either,  can  we  congeal  into  distinct  and 
independent  things  the  fluidity  of  a continuous 
undivided  process.  This  symbolism  may  indeed 
suffice  as  long  as  it  is  strictly  limited  to  the  facts 
which  have  served  to  invent  it  : but  each  new 
fact  will  force  us  to  complicate  our  diagram,  to  in- 
sert new  stations  along  the  line  of  the  movement ; 
and  yet  all  these  stations  laid  side  by  side  will 
never  be  able  to  reconstitute  the  movement  itself. 

Nothing  is  more  instructive,  in  this  regard,  than 
the  history  of  the  diagrams  of  sensory  apha- 
sia. In  the  early  period,  marked  by 
fromtrthe°ns  the  work  of  Charcot,1  Broadbent,2  Kuss- 
theories  oi  maul 3 and  Lichtheim,4  the  theorists 
confined  themselves  to  the  hypothesis 
of  an  ‘ ideational  centre  ’ linked  by  transcortical 
paths  to  the  various  speech  centres.  But,  as 
the  analysis  of  cases  was  pushed  further,  this 
centre  for  ideas  receded  and  finally  disap- 
peared. For,  while  the  physiology  of  the  brain 
was  more  and  more  successful  in  localizing  sensa- 
tions and  movements,  but  never  ideas,  the  diversity 
of  sensory  aphasias  obliged  clinicians  to  break  up 

1 Bernard,  De  Vaphasie,  p.  37. 

2 Broadbent,  A Case  of  Peculiar  Affection  of  Speech  (Brain, 
1879,  p.  494). 

3 Kussmaul,  Die  Storungen  der  Sprache.  Leipzig,  1877, 
p.  182. 

4 Lichtheim,  On  Aphasia  {Brain,  1885).  Yet  we  must  note 
the  fact  that  Wernicke,  the  first  to  study  sensory  aphasia 
methodically,  was  able  to  do  without  a centre  for  concepts 
(Der  aphasische  Symptomencomplex.  Breslau,  1874). 


CHAP.  II. 


REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES 


*57 


the  intellectual  centre  into  a growing  multiplicity 
of  image  centres — a centre  for  visual  representa- 
tions, for  tactile  representations,  for  auditory 
representations,  etc., — nay,  to  divide  sometimes 
into  two  different  tracks,  the  one  ascending  and 
the  other  descending,  the  line  of  communication 
between  any  two  of  them.1  This  was  the  charac- 
teristic feature  of  the  diagrams  of  the  later  period, 
those  of  Wysman,2  of  Moeli,3  of  Freud,4  etc. 
Thus  the  theory  grew  more  and  more  compli- 
cated, yet  without  ever  being  able  to  grasp  the 
full  complexity  of  reality.  And  as  the  diagrams 
became  more  complicated,  they  figured  and  sug- 
gested the  possibility  of  lesions  which,  just  because 
they  were  more  diverse,  were  more  special  and  more 
simple,  the  complication  of  the  diagram  being  due 
precisely  to  that  dissociation  of  centres  which  had 
at  first  been  confounded.  Experience,  however, 
was  far  from  justifying  the  theory  at  this  point, 
since  it  nearly  always  showed,  in  partial  and  diverse 
combinations,  several  of  those  simple  psychical 

1 Bastian,  On  Different  Kinds  of  Aphasia  [Brit.  Med.  Journal, 
1887). — Cf.  the  explanation  (indicated  merely  as  possible) 
of  optical  aphasia  by  Bemheim  : De  la  cecite  psychique  des 
choses  (Revue  de  Medecine,  1885). 

2 Wysman,  Aphasii  und  verwandte  Zustdnde  ( Deutches 
Archiv.  fur  Klinische  Medecin,  1880). — Magnan  had  already 
opened  the  way,  as  Skwortzoff’s  diagram  indicates,  De 
la  cecite  des  mots  ( Th . de  Med.,  1881,  pi.  i). 

3 Moeli,  Ueber  Aphasie  bei  Wahrnehmung  der  Gegenstande 
durch  das  Gesicht  (Berliner  Klinische  Wochenschrift,  28  Apr., 
1890). 

4 Freud,  Zur  Auffassung  der  Aphasien . Leipzig,  1891. 


158 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


u 


lesions  which  the  theory  isolated.  The  complica- 
tion of  the  theories  of  aphasia  being  thus  self- 
destructive, it  is  no  wonder  that  modern  patho- 
logy, becoming  more  and  more  sceptical  with 
regard  to  diagrams,  is  returning  purely  and  simply 
to  the  description  of  facts.1 

But  how  could  it  be  otherwise  ? To  hear  some 
theorists  discourse  on  sensory  aphasia,  we  might 
imagine  that  they  had  never  considered  with  any 
care  the  structure  of  a sentence.  They  argue  as  if 
a sentence  were  composed  of  nouns  which  call  up 
the  images  of  things.  What  becomes  of  those 
parts  of  speech,  of  which  the  precise  function  is  to 
establish,  between  images,  relations  and  shades  of 
meaning  of  every  kind  ? Is  it  said  that  each  of 
such  words  still  expresses  and  evokes  a material 
image,  more  confused,  no  doubt,  but  yet  deter- 
mined ? Consider  then  the  host  of  different  rela- 
tions which  can  be  expressed  by  the  same  word, 
according  to  the  place  it  occupies  and  the  terms 
which  it  unites.  Is  it  urged  that  these  are  the 
refinements  of  a highly-developed  language,  but 
that  speech  is  possible  with  concrete  nouns  that 
all  summon  up  images  of  things  ? No  doubt 
it  is,  but  the  more  primitive  the  language  you 
speak  with  me  and  the  poorer  in  words  which 
express  relations,  the  more  you  are  bound  to 
allow  for  my  mind’s  activity,  since  you  compel 
me  to  find  out  the  relations  which  you  leave 

1 Sommer,  Addressing  a Congress  of  Alienists.  (Arch, 
de  Neurologie,  vol.  xxiv,  1892). 


CHAP.  II 


REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES 


159 


unexpressed : which  amounts  to  saying  that  you 
abandon  more  and  more  the  hypothesis  that 
each  verbal  image  goes  up  and  fetches  down  its 
corresponding  idea.  In  truth,  there  is  here  only 
a question  of  degree  : every  language,  whether 
elaborated  or  crude,  leaves  many  more  things  to 
be  understood  than  it  is  able  to  express.  Essen- 
tially discontinuous,  since  it  proceeds  by  juxta- 
posing words,  speech  can  only  indicate  by  a few 
guide-posts  placed  here  and  there  the  chief 
stages  in  the  movement  of  thought.  That  is  why 
I can  indeed  understand  your  speech  if  I start 
from  a thought  analogous  to  your  own,  and  follow 
its  windings  by  the  aid  of  verbal  images  which 
are  so  many  sign-posts  that  show  me  the  way 
from  time  to  time.  But  I shall  never  be  able 
to  understand  it  if  I start  from  the  verbal 
images  themselves,  because  between  two  conse- 
cutive verbal  images  there  is  a gulf  which  no 
amount  of  concrete  representations  can  ever  fill. 
For  images  can  never  be  anything  but  things, 
and  thought  is  a movement. 

It  is  vain,  therefore,  to  treat  memory-images 
and  ideas  as  ready-made  things,  and  then  assign 

Attempts  to  to  them  an  abiding  place  in  problemati- 
looaiize  images  ca]  centres.  Nor  is  it  of  any  avail  to 

m the  brain  J 

toadicted  IT'  disguise  the  hypothesis  under  the  cover 
analysis*81031  a language  borrowed  from  anatomy 
and  physiology  ; it  is  nothing  but  the 
association  theory  of  mind  ; it  has  nothing  in  its 
favour  but  the  constant  tendency  of  discursive 


i6o 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


intellect  to  cut  up  all  progress  into  phases  and 
afterwards  to  solidify  these  phases  into  things; 
and  since  it  is  born  a priori  from  a kind  of 
metaphysical  prepossession,  it  has  neither  the 
advantage  of  following  the  movement  of  con- 
sciousness nor  that  of  simplifying  the  explana- 
tion of  the  facts. 

But  we  must  follow  this  illusion  up  to  the  point 
where  it  issues  in  a manifest  contradiction.  We 


more  capable  of  inserting  themselves  into  the 
motor  diagram.  In  the  degree  that  these  recol- 
lections take  the  form  of  a more  complete, 
more  concrete  and  more  conscious  represen- 
tation, do  they  tend  to  confound  themselves 
with  the  perception  which  attracts  them  or  of 
which  they  adopt  the  outline.  Therefore  there 
is  not,  there  cannot  be  in  the  brain  a region  in 
which  memories  congeal  and  accumulate.  The 
alleged  destruction  of  memories  by  an  injury  to 
the  brain  is  but  a break  in  the  continuous  pro- 
gress by  which  they  actualize  themselves.  And, 
consequently,  if  we  insist  on  localizing  the  auditory 
memory  of  words,  for  instance,  in  a given  part  of 
the  brain,  we  shall  be  led  by  equally  cogent  reasons 
to  distinguish  this  image-centre  from  the  percep- 
tive centre  or  to  confound  the  two  in  one.  Now 
this  is  just  what  experience  teaches. 

For  notice  the  strange  contradiction  to  which 


have  said  that  ideas, — pure  recollections 


contradict 

themselves. 


themselves. 


develop  into  memory-images  more  and 


chap,  ii  REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES  l6l 

this  theory  is  led  by  psychological  analysis  on 
the  one  hand,  by  pathological  facts  on  the  other. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  would  seem  that  if  percep- 
tion, once  it  has  taken  place,  remains  in  the  brain 
in  the  state  of  a stored-up  memory,  this  can 
only  be  as  an  acquired  disposition  of  the  very 
elements  that  perception  has  affected : how, 
at  what  precise  moment,  can  it  go  in  search  of 
others  ? This  is,  indeed,  the  most  natural  hypo- 
thesis, and  Bain  1 and  Ribot 2 are  content  to 
rest  upon  it.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is 
pathology,  which  tells  us  that  all  the  recollections 
of  a certain  kind  may  have  gone  while  the 
corresponding  faculty  of  perception  remains 
unimpaired.  Psychic  blindness  does  not  hinder 
seeing,  any  more  than  psychic  deafness  hinders 
hearing.  More  particularly,  in  regard  to  the 
loss  of  the  auditory  memory  of  words  — the 
only  one  we  are  now  considering — there  are  a 
number  of  facts  which  show  it  to  be  regularly 
associated  with  a destructive  lesion  of  the  first  and 
second  left  temporo-sphenoidal  convolutions,3 
though  not  a single  case  is  on  record  in  which  this 
lesion  was  the  cause  of  deafness  properly  so-called  : 

1 The  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  p.  329.  Cf,  Spencer,  Principles 
of  Psychology,  vol.  i.,  p.  456. 

2 Ribot,  Les  maladies  de  la  memoire.  Paris,  1881,  p.  10. 

3 See  an  enumeration  of  the  most  typical  cases  in  Shaw’s 
article,  The  Sensory  Side  of  Aphasia  (Brain,  1893,  p.  501). — 
Several  authors,  however,  limit  to  the  first  convolution  the 
lesion  corresponding  to  the  loss  of  verbal  auditory  images 
See,  in  particular,  Ballet,  Le  langage  interieur,  p.  153. 

M 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


l62 


it  has  even  been  produced  experimentally  in  the 
monkey  without  determining  anything  but  psychic 
deafness,  that  is  to  say,  a loss  of  the  power  to 
interpret  the  sounds  which  it  was  still  able  to 
hear.1  So  that  we  must  attribute  to  perception 
and  to  memory  separate  nervous  elements.  But 
then  this  hypothesis  will  be  contradicted  by  the 
most  elementary  psychological  observation  ; for 
we  see  that  a memory,  as  it  becomes  more  dis- 
tinct and  more  intense,  tends  to  become  a percep- 
tion, though  there  is  no  precise  moment  at  which 
a radical  transformation  takes  place,  nor  conse- 
quently a moment  when  we  can  say  that  it  moves 
forward  from  imaginative  elements  to  sensory  ele 
ments.  Thus  these  two  contrary  hypotheses,  the 
first  identifying  the  elements  of  perception  with 
the  elements  of  memory,  the  second  distinguish 
ing  them,  are  of  such  a nature  that  each  sends 
us  back  to  the  other  without  allowing  us  to 
rest  in  either. 

How  should  it  be  otherwise  ? Here  again 
distinct  perception  and  memory-image  are  taken 
The  memory-  in  the  static  condition,  as  things  of 
by  agdynamfc  which  the  first  is  supposed  to  be  al- 
thegpereeption  ready  complete  without  the  second ; 
Mmea^actuaL*  whereas  we  ought  to  consider  the  dyna 
mic  progress  by  which  the  one  passes  into  the 
other. 

For,  on  the  one  hand,  complete  perception  is 

1 Luciani,  quoted  by  J.  Soury,  Les  fonctions  du  cerveau , 
Paris,  1892,  p.  211. 


chap,  n REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES  163 

only  defined  and  distinguished  by  its  coalescence 
with  a memory-image,  which  we  send  forth  to  meet 
it.  Only  thus  is  attention  secured,  and  without 
attention  there  is  but  a passive  juxtapositing  of 
sensations,  accompanied  by  a mechanical  reaction. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  as  we  shall  show  later,  the 
memory-image  itself,  if  it  remained  pure  memory, 
would  be  ineffectual.  Virtual,  this  memory  can 
only  become  actual  by  means  of  the  perception 
which  attracts  it.  Powerless,  it  borrows  life  and 
strength  from  the  present  sensation  in  which  it 
is  materialized.  Does  not  this  amount  to  saying 
that  distinct  perception  is  brought  about  by  two 
opposite  currents,  of  which  the  one,  centripetal, 
comes  from  the  external  object,  and  the  other, 
centrifugal,  has  for  its  point  of  departure  that 
which  we  term  ‘ pure  memory  ’ ? The  first 
current,  alone,  would  only  give  a passive  percep- 
tion with  the  mechanical  reactions  which  accom- 
pany it.  The  second,  left  to  itself,  tends  to  give 
a recollection  that  is  actualized — more  and  more 
actual  as  the  current  becomes  more  marked. 
Together,  these  two  currents  make  up,  at  their 
point  of  confluence,  the  perception  that  is  distinct 
and  recognized. 

This  is  the  witness  of  introspection.  But 
we  have  no  right  to  stop  there.  Undoubtedly 
there  is  considerable  risk  in  venturing,  without 
sufficient  evidence,  into  the  obscure  problems 
of  cerebral  localization.  But  we  have  said  that 
to  separate  from  one  another  the  completed  per- 


164 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


ception  and  the  memory  image  is  to  bring  clini- 
cal observation  into  conflict  with  psychological 
analysis,  and  that  the  result  is  a serious  antino- 
my in  the  theory  of  the  localization  of  memories. 
We  are  bound  to  consider  what  becomes  of  the 
known  facts  when  we  cease  to  regard  the  brain 
as  a storehouse  of  memories.1 


Let  us  admit,  for  the  moment,  in  order  to  simpli- 


1 The  theory  which  is  here  sketched  out  resembles, 
in  one  respect,  that  of  Wundt.  We  will  give  the  common 
element  and  the  essential  difference  between  them.  With 
Wundt,  we  believe  that  distinct  perception  implies  a centri- 
fugal action  ; and  thereby  we  are  led  to  suppose  with  him 
(although  in  a slightly  different  sense),  that  the  so-called 
image  centres  are  rather  centres  for  the  grouping  of 
sense-impressions.  But  whereas,  according  to  Wundt,  the 
centrifugal  action  lies  in  an  ‘ apperceptive  stimulation,’  the 
nature  of  which  can  only  be  defined  in  a general  manner, 
and  which  appears  to  correspond  to  what  is  commonly  called 
the  fixing  of  the  attention,  we  maintain  that  this  centrifugal 
action  bears  in  each  case  a distinct  form,  the  very  form  of 
that  ‘ virtual  object  * which  tends  to  actualize  itself  by 
successive  stages.  Hence  an  important  difference  in  our 
understanding  of  the  office  of  the  centres.  Wundt  is  led  to 
assume  : 1st,  a general  organ  of  apperception,  occupying 

the  frontal  lobe  ; 2ndly,  particular  centres  which,  though 
most  likely  incapable  of  storing  images,  retain  nevertheless 
a tendency  or  a disposition  to  reproduce  them.  Our  con- 
tention, on  the  contrary,  is  that  no  trace  of  an  image  can 
remain  in  the  substance  of  the  brain,  and  that  no  such  centre 
of  apperception  can  exist  ; but  that  there  are  merely,  in  that 
substance,  organs  of  virtual  perception,  influenced  by  the 
intention  of  the  memory,  as  there  are  at  the  periphery  organs 
of  real  perception,  influenced  by  the  action  of  the  object.  (See 
Grundzuge  der  physiologische  Psychologie,  vol.  i,  pp.  320-327.) 


CHAP.  II 


REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES 


165 


fy  the  argument,  that  stimuli  from  without  give 
if  any  image-  birth,  either  in  the  cortex  or  in  other 

C6ntF6  really 

exists,  it  is  cerebral  centres,  to  elementary  sensa- 
kina  of  key-  tions.  In  tact,  every  perception  includes 

board,  played  • , , , , c , , . 

upon  by  mem-  a considerable  number  ot  such  sensations, 

ories,  as  the  „ ...  - - . , 

sense-organ  is  all  co-existmg  and  arranged  m a deter- 
by  objectPsra  mined  order.  Whence  comes  this  order, 
and  what  ensures  this  co-existence  ? In  the  case 
of  a present  material  object,  there  is  no  doubt  as  to 
the  answer  : order  and  co-existence  come  from 
an  organ  of  sense,  receiving  the  impression  of  an 
external  object.  This  organ  is  constructed  pre- 
cisely with  a view  to  allowing  a plurality  of  simul- 
taneous excitants  to  impress  it  in  a certain  order 
and  in  a certain  way,  by  distributing  themselves, 
all  at  one  time,  over  selected  portions  of  its  sur- 
face. It  is  like  an  immense  keyboard,  on  which 
the  external  object  executes  at  once  its  harmony  of 
a thousand  notes,  thus  calling  forth  in  a definite 
order,  and  at  a single  moment,  a great  multitude 
of  elementary  sensations  corresponding  to  all  the 
points  of  the  sensory  centre  that  are  concerned. 
Now,  suppress  the  external  object  or  the  organ  of 
sense,  or  both  : the  same  elementary  sensations  may 
be  excited,  for  the  same  strings  are  there,  ready 
to  vibrate  in  the  same  way  ; but  where  is  the 
keyboard  which  permits  thousands  of  them  to  be 
struck  at  once,  and  so  many  single  notes  to 
unite  in  one  accord  ? In  our  opinion  the  ‘ region 
of  images,’  if  it  exists,  can  only  be  a keyboard 
of  this  nature.  Certainly  it  is  in  no  way  incon- 


i66 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


c.eivable  that  a purely  psychical  cause  should 
directly  set  in  action  all  the  strings  concerned. 
But  in  the  case  of  mental  hearing — which  alone 
we  are  considering  now — the  localization  of  the 
function  appears  certain,  since  a definite  injury  of 
the  temporal  lobe  abolishes  it ; and,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  have  set  forth  the  reasons  which  make 
it  impossible  for  us  to  admit,  or  even  to  conceive, 
traces  of  images  deposited  in  any  region  of  the 
cerebral  substance.  Hence  only  one  plausible  hy- 
pothesis remains,  namely,  that  this  region  occupies 
with  regard  to  the  centre  of  hearing  itself  the 
place  that  is  exactly  symmetrical  with  the  organ 
of  sense.  It  is,  in  this  case,  a mental  ear. 

But  then  the  contradiction  we  have  spoken  of 
disappears.  We  see,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the 
auditory  image  called  back  by  memory  must  set 
in  motion  the  same  nervous  elements  as  the  first 
perception,  and  that  recollection  must  thus  change 
gradually  into  perception.  And  we  see  also,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  the  faculty  of  recalling 
to  memory  complex  sounds,  such  as  words, 
may  concern  other  parts  of  the  nervous  sub- 
stance than  does  the  faculty  of  perceiving  them. 
This  is  why  in  psychic  deafness  real  hearing 
survives  mental  hearing.  The  strings  are  still 
there,  and  to  the  influence  of  external  sounds 
they  vibrate  still;  it  is  the  internal  keyboard 
which  is  lacking. 

In  other  terms,  the  centres  in  which  the  ele- 
mentary sensations  seem  to  originate  may  be  actu- 


chap,  ii  REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES  l6 7 

ated,  in  some  sort,  from  two  different  sides,  from 
in  front  and  from  behind.  From  the  front  they 
receive  impressions  sent  in  by  the  sense-organs, 
and  consequently  by  a real  object ; from  behind 
they  are  subject,  through  successive  intermedi- 
aries, to  the  influence  of  a virtual  object.  The 
centres  of  images,  if  these  exist,  can  only  be  the 
organs  that  are  exactly  symmetrical  with  the 
organs  of  the  senses  in  reference  to  the  sensory 
centres.  They  are  no  more  the  depositories  of 
pure  memories,  that  is,  of  virtual  objects,  than 
the  organs  of  the  senses  are  depositories  of  rea] 
objects. 

We  would  add  that  this  is  but  a much  abridged 
version  of  what  may  happen  in  reality.  The 
various  sensory  aphasias  are  sufficient  proof  that 
the  calling  up  of  an  auditory  image  is  not  a 
single  act.  Between  the  intention,  which  is  what 
we  call  the  pure  memory,  and  the  auditory 
memory-image  properly  so  called,  intermediate 
memories  are  commonly  intercalated  which  must 
first  have  been  realized  as  memory-images  in  more 
or  less  distant  centres.  It  is,  then,  by  successive 
degrees  that  the  idea  comes  to  embody  itself  in 
that  particular  image  which  is  the  verbal  image. 
Thereby  mental  hearing  may  depend  upon  the 
integrity  of  the  various  centres  and  of  the  paths 
which  lead  to  them.  But  these  complications 
change  nothing  at  the  root  of  things.  Whatever 
be  the  number  and  the  nature  of  the  interven- 
ing processes,  we  do  not  go  from  the  perception 


1 68 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  It 


to  the  idea,  but  from  the  idea  to  the  perception  ; 
and  the  essential  process  of  recognition  is  not 
centripetal,  but  centrifugal. 

Here,  indeed,  the  question  arises  how  stimulation 
from  within  can  give  birth  to  sensations,  either 
by  its  action  on  the  cerebral  cortex  or  on  other 
centres.  But  it  is  clear  enough  that  we  have  here 
only  a convenient  way  of  expressing  ourselves. 
Pure  memories,  as  they  become  actual,  tend  to 
bring  about,  within  the  body,  all  the  corresponding 
sensations.  But  these  virtual  sensations  them- 
selves, in  order  to  become  real,  must  tend  to 
urge  the  body  to  action,  and  to  impress  upon 
it  those  movements  and  attitudes  of  which  they 
are  the  habitual  antecedent.  The  modifications 
in  the  centres  called  sensory,  modifications 
which  usually  precede  movements  accomplished 
or  sketched  out  by  the  body  and  of  which  the 
normal  office  is  to  prepare  them  while  they  begin 
them,  are,  then,  less  the  real  cause  of  the  sensa- 
tion than  the  mark  of  its  power  and  the  con- 
dition of  its  efficacy.  The  progress  by  which  the 
virtual  image  realizes  itself  is  nothing  else  than 
the  series  of  stages  by  which  this  image  gradually 
obtains  from  the  body  useful  actions  or  use- 
ful attitudes.  The  stimulation  of  the  so-called 
sensory  centres  is  the  last  of  these  stages  : it  is 
the  prelude  to  a motor  reaction,  the  beginning  of 
an  action  in  space.  In  other  words,  the  virtual 
image  evolves  towards  the  virtual  sensation,  and 
the  virtual  sensation  towards  real  movement : this 


CHAP.  II 


REALIZATION  OF  MEMORIES 


169 


movement,  in  realizing  itself,  realizes  both  the 
sensation  of  which  it  might  have  been  the  natural 
continuation,  and  the  image  which  has  tried  to 
embody  itself  in  the  sensation.  We  must  now 
consider  these  virtual  states  more  carefully,  and, 
penetrating  further  into  the  internal  mechanism  of 
psychical  and  psycho-physical  actions,  show  by 
what  continuous  progress  the  past  tends  to  recon- 
quer, by  actualizing  itself,  the  influence  it  had 
lost. 


CHAPTER  III 


OF  THE  SURVIVAL  OF  IMAGES.  MEMORY  AND 
MIND. 

X 

To  sum  up  briefly  the  preceding  chapters.  We 
have  distinguished  three  processes,  pure  memory, 
memory-image,  and  perception,  of  which  no  one, 
in  fact,  occurs  apart  from  the  others.  Perception 
is  never  a mere  contact  of  the  mind  with  the 

object  present  ; it  is 
impregnated  with 
memory-images 

Pure  memory  Memory  image  Perception  which  Complete  it  aS 

D they  interpret  it.  The 
memory-image,  in  its 
turn,  partakes  of  the 
‘pure  memory,’ 
which  it  begins  to 
materialize,  and  of  the  perception  in  which  it  tends 
to  embody  itself : regarded  from  the  latter  point  of 
view,  it  might  be  defined  as  a nascent  perception. 
Lastly,  pure  memory,  though  independent  in 
theory,  manifests  itself  as  a rule  only  in  the 
coloured  and  living  image  which  reveals  it.  Sym- 
bolizing these  three  terms  by  the  consecutive 
segments  AB,  BC,  CD,  of  the  same  straight  line 


Fig.  2. 


CHAP.  Ill 


PURE  MEMORY 


171 


AD,  we  may  say  that  our  thought  describes  this 
line  in  a single  movement  which  goes  from  A to 
D,  and  that  it  is  impossible  to  say  precisely  where 
one  of  the  terms  ends  and  another  begins. 

In  fact,  this  is  just  what  consciousness  bears 
witness  to  whenever,  in  order  to  analyse  memory, 
it  follows  the  movement  of  memory  at  work. 
Whenever  we  are  trying  to  recover  a recollection, 
to  call  up  some  period  of  our  history,  we  become 
conscious  of  an  act  sui  generis  by  which  we  detach 
ourselves  from  the  present  in  order  to  replace 
ourselves,  first  in  the  past  in  general,  then  in  a 
certain  region  of  the  past — a work  of  adjustment, 
something  like  the  focussing  of  a camera.  But 
our  recollection  still  remains  virtual ; we  simply 
prepare  ourselves  to  receive  it  by  adopting  the 
appropriate  attitude.  Little  by  little  it  comes  into 
view  like  a condensing  cloud  ; from  the  virtual 
state  it  passes  into  the  actual ; and  as  its  outlines 
become  more  distinct  and  its  surface  takes  on 
colour,  it  tends  to  imitate  perception.  But  it  re- 
mains attached  to  the  past  by  its  deepest  roots, 
and  if,  when  once  realized,  it  did  not  retain 
something  of  its  original  virtuality,  if,  being  a 
present  state,  it  were  not  also  something  which 
stands  out  distinct  from  the  present,  we  should 
never  know  it  for  a memory. 

The  capital  error  of  associationism  is  that  it 
substitutes  for  this  continuity  of  becoming,  which 
is  the  living  reality,  a discontinuous  multiplicity 
of  elements,  inert  and  juxtaposed.  Just  because 


172 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


each  of  the  elements  so  constituted  contains,  by 
Association-  reason  of  its  origin,  something  of  what 
stuntes"  precedes  and  also  of  what  follows,  it  must 
iawdsfaeIbyntS  take  to  our  eyes  the  form  of  a mixed 
arid  moving  and,  so  to  speak,  impure  state.  But 
makes’  oT*  the  principle  of  associationism  requires 
? weakened^  that  each  psychical  state  should  be  a 
perception.  kind  0f  atom,  a simple  element.  Hence 
the  necessity  for  sacrificing,  in  each  of  the  phases 
we  have  distinguished,  the  unstable  to  the  stable, 
that  is  to  say,  the  beginning  to  the  end.  If  we 
are  dealing  with  perception,  we  are  asked  to  see  in 
it  nothing  but  the  agglomerated  sensations  which 
colour  it,  and  to  overlook  the  remembered  images 
which  form  its  dim  nucleus.  If  it  is  the  remem- 
bered image  that  we  are  considering,  we  are  bidden 
to  take  it  already  made,  realized  in  a weak  per- 
ception, and  to  shut  our  eyes  to  the  pure  memory 
which  this  image  has  progressively  developed.  In 
the  rivalry  which  associationism  thus  sets  up 
between  the  stable  and  the  unstable,  perception 
is  bound  to  expel  the  memory-image,  and  the 
memory-image  to  expel  pure  memory.  And  thus 
the  pure  memory  disappears  altogether.  Associa- 
tionism, cutting  in  two  by  a line  MO  the  totality 
of  the  progress  AD,  sees,  in  the  part  OD,  only  the 
sensations  which  terminate  it  and  which  have  been 
supposed  to  constitute  the  whole  of  perception  ; — 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  reduces.also  the  part  AO 
to  the  realized  image  which  pure  memory  attains 
to  as  it  expands.  Psychical  life,  then,  is  en- 


CHAP.  Ill 


PURE  MEMORY 


173 


tirely  summed  up  in  these  two  elements,  sensation 
and  image.  And  as,  on  the  one  hand,  this 
theory  drowns  in  the  image  the  pure  memory 
which  makes  the  image  into  an  original  state, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  brings  the  image  yet 
closer  to  perception  by  putting  into  perception, 
in  advance,  something  of  the  image  itself,  it  ends 
by  finding  between  these  two  states  only  a differ- 
ence of  degree,  or  of  intensity.  Hence  the  dis- 
tinction between  strong  states  and  weak  states,  of 
which  the  first  are  supposed  to  be  set  up  by  us 
as  perceptions  of  the  present,  and  the  second  (why, 
no  man  knows)  as  representations  of  the  past. 
But  the  truth  is  that  we  shall  never  reach  the 
past  unless  we  frankly  place  ourselves  within  it. 
Essentially  virtual,  it  cannot  be  known  as  some- 
thing past  unless  we  follow  and  adopt  the  move- 
ment by  which  it  expands  into  a present  image, 
thus  emerging  from  obscurity  into  the  light  of  day. 
In  vain  do  we  seek  its  trace  in  anything  actual 
and  already  realized  : we  might  as  well  look  for 
darkness  beneath  the  light.  This  is,  in  fact,  the 
error  of  associationism  : placed  in  the  actual,  it 
exhausts  itself  in  vain  attempts  to  discover  in  a 
realized  and  present  state  the  mark  of  its  past 
origin,  to  distinguish  memory  from  perception, 
and  to  erect  into  a difference  in  kind  that  which 
it  condemned  in  advance  to  be  but  a difference 
of  magnitude. 

To  picture  is  not  to  remember.  No  doubt  a 
recollection,  as  it  becomes  actual,  tends  to  live  in 


174 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


an  image  ; but  the  converse  is  not  true,  and  the 
image,  pure  and  simple,  will  not  be  referred  to  the 
past  unless,  indeed,  it  was  in  the  past  that  I sought 
it,  thus  following  the  continuous  progress  which 
brought  it  from  darkness  into  light.  This  is  what 
psychologists  too  often  forget  when  they  conclude, 
from  the  fact  that  a remembered  sensation  be- 
comes more  actual  the  more  we  dwell  upon  it, 
that  the  memory  of  the  sensation  is  the  sensation 
itself  beginning  to  be.  The  fact  which  they  allege 
is  undoubtedly  true  : the  more  I strive  to  recall  a 
past  pain,  the  nearer  I come  to  feeling  it  in  reality. 
But  this  is  easy  to  understand,  since  the  progress 
of  a memory  precisely  consists,  as  we  have  said, 
in  its  becoming  materialized.  The  question  is : 
was  the  memory  of  a pain,  when  it  began,  really 
pain?  Because  the  hypnotized  subject  ends  by 
feeling  hot  when  he  is  repeatedly  told  that  he  is 
hot,  it  does  not  follow  that  the  words  of  the  sug- 
gestion were  themselves  hot.  Neither  must  we 
conclude  that,  because  the  memory  of  a sensa- 
tion prolongs  itself  into  that  very  sensation,  the 
memory  was  a nascent  sensation  : perhaps  indeed 
this  memory  plays,  with  regard  to  the  sensation 
which  follows  it,  precisely  the  part  of  the  hypnotizer 
who  makes  the  suggestion.  The  argument  we  are 
criticizing,  presented  in  this  form,  is  then  already  of 
no  value  as  proof  ; but  still,  it  is  not  yet  a vicious 
argument,  because  it  profits  by  the  incontestable 
truth  that  memory  passes  into  something  else  by 
becoming  actual.  The  absurdity  becomes  patent 


CHAP.  Ill 


PURE  MEMORY 


175 


when  the  argument  is  inverted  (although  this 
ought  to  be  legitimate  on  the  hypothesis  adopted), 
that  is  to  say,  when  the  intensity  of  the  sensation  is 
decreased  instead  of  the  intensity  of  pure  memory 
being  increased.  For  then,  if  the  two  states 
differ  merely  in  degree,  there  should  be  a given 
moment  at  which  the  sensation  changed  into  a 
memory.  If  the  memory  of  an  acute  pain,  for 
instance,  is  but  a slight  pain,  inversely  an  intense 
pain  which  I feel  will  end,  as  it  grows  less,  by  being 
an  acute  pain  remembered.  Now  the  moment 
will  come,  undoubtedly,  when  it  is  impossible 
for  me  to  say  whether  what  I feel  is  a slight  sen- 
sation which  I experience  or  a slight  sensation 
which  I imagine  (and  this  is  natural,  because  the 
memory-image  is  already  partly  sensation) ; but 
never  will  this  weak  state  appear  to  me  to  be 
the  memory  of  a strong  state.  Memory,  then,  is 
something  quite  different. 

But  the  illusion  which  consists  in  establishing 
only  a difference  of  degree  between  memory  and 
perception  is  more  than  a mere  consequence  of 
associationism,  more  than  an  accident  in  the 
history  of  philosophy.  Its  roots  lie  deep.  It 
rests,  in  the  last  analysis,  on  a false  idea  of  the 
nature  and  of  the  object  of  external  perception. 
We  are  bent  on  regarding  perception  as  only  an 
instruction  addressed  to  a pure  spirit,  as  having 
a purely  speculative  interest.  Then,  as  memory 
is  itself  essentially  a knowledge  of  this  kind,  since  its 
object  is  no  longer  present,  we  can  only  find  between 


176 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


perception  and  memory  a difference  of  degree — 
perceptions  being  then  supposed  to  throw  mem- 
But  memory  ories  back  into  the  past,  and  thus  to 
differenffrom  reserve  to  themselves  the  present  simply 
The  pastes  because  right  is  might.  But  there  is 
presents  sen-  rnuch  more  between  past  and  present 
and'therefore  than  a mere  difference  of  degree.  My 
active.  present  is  that  which  interests  me,  which 
lives  for  me,  and,  in  a word,  that  which  summons 
me  to  action ; whereas  my  past  is  essentially  power- 
less. We  must  dwell  further  on  this  point.  By 
contrasting  it  with  present  perception  we  shall 
better  understand  the  nature  of  what  we  call 
‘ pure  memory.’ 

For  we  should  endeavour  in  vain  to  characterize 
the  memory  of  a past  state  unless  we  began  by 
defining  the  concrete  note,  accepted  by  conscious- 
ness, of  present  reality.  What  is,  for  me,  the 
present  moment  ? The  essence  of  time  is  that 
it  goes  by  ; time  already  gone  by  is  the  past,  and 
we  call  the  present  the  instant  in  which  it  goes 
by.  But  there  can  be  no  question  here  of  a 
mathematical  instant.  No  doubt  there  is  an 
ideal  present — a pure  conception,  the  indivisible 
limit  which  separates  past  from  future.  But  the 
real,  concrete,  live  present — that  of  which  I speak 
when  I speak  of  my  present  perception — that 
present  necessarily  occupies  a duration.  Where 
then  is  this  duration  placed  ? Is  it  on  the  hither 
or  on  the  further  side  of  the  mathematical  point 
which  I determine  ideally  when  I think  of  the 


CHAP.  Ill 


WHAT  THE  PRESENT  IS 


*77 


present  instant  ? Quite  evidently,  it  is  both  on 
this  side  and  on  that ; and  what  I call  ‘ my  pre- 
sent ’ has  one  foot  in  my  past  and  another  in  my 
future.  In  my  past,  first,  because  ‘ the  moment 
in  which  I am  speaking  is  already  far  from  me 
in  my  future,  next,  because  this  moment  is  im- 
pending over  the  future : it  is  to  the  future  that  I 
am  tending,  and  could  I fix  this  indivisible  present, 
this  infinitesimal  element  of  the  curve  of  time, 
it  is  the  direction  of  the  future  that  it  would  in- 
dicate. The  psychical  state,  then,  that  I call 
- my  present,’  must  be  both  a perception  of  the 
immediate  past  and  a determination  of  the  im- 
mediate future.  Now  the  immediate  past,  in  so 
far  as  it  is  perceived,  is,  as  we  shall  see,  sensation, 
since  every  sensation  translates  a very  long  suc- 
cession of  elementary  vibrations  ; and  the  im- 
mediate future,  in  so  far  as  it  is  being  determined, 
is  action  or  movement.  My  present,  then,  is  both 
sensation  and  movement ; and,  since  my  present 
forms  an  undivided  whole,  then  the  movement 
must  be  linked  with  the  sensation,  must  prolong 
it  in  action.  Whence  I conclude  that  my  present 
consists  in  a joint  system  of  sensations  and 
movements.  My  present  is,  in  its  essence,  sensori- 
motor. 


Our  present  This  is  to  say  that  mY  Present  con- 
materiaiity  of  s^s  *be  consciousness  that  I have 
ia’nnfqVe*4  of  my  body.  Having  extension  in  space, 
moment  oi  mY  body  experiences  sensations  and  at 


duration. 


the  same  time  executes  movements. 


178 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


Sensations  and  movements  being  localized  at  de- 
termined points  of  this  extended  body,  there  can 
only  be,  at  a given  moment,  a single  system  of 
movements  and  sensations.  That  is  why  my  pre- 
sent appears  to  me  to  be  a thing  absolutely  deter- 
mined, and  contrasting  with  my  past.  Situated 
between  the  matter  which  influences  it  and  that 
on  which  it  has  influence,  my  body  is  a centre  of 
action,  the  place  where  the  impressions  received 
choose  intelligently  the  path  they  will  follow  to 
transform  themselves  into  movements  accom- 
plished. Thus  it  indeed  represents  the  actual 
state  of  my  becoming,  that  part  of  my  duration 
which  is  in  process  of  growth.  More  generally,  in 
that  continuity  of  becoming  which  is  reality  itself, 
the  present  moment  is  constituted  by  the  quasi- 
instantaneous  section  effected  by  our  perception 
in  the  flowing  mass ; and  this  section  is  precisely 
that  which  we  call  the  material  world.  Our  body 
occupies  its  centre ; it  is,  in  this  material  world, 
that  part  of  which  we  directly  feel  the  flux  ; in 
its  actual  state  the  actuality  of  our  present  lies. 
If  matter,  so  far  as  extended  in  space,  is  to  be  de- 
fined (as  we  believe  it  must)  as  a present  which  is 
always  beginning  again,  inversely,  our  present  is 
the  very  materiality  of  our  existence,  that  is  to  say, 
a system  of  sensations  and  movements,  and  nothing 
else.  And  this  system  is  determined,  unique  for 
each  moment  of  duration,  just  because  sensa- 
tions and  movements  occupy  space,  and  because 
there  cannot  be  in  the  same  place  several  things 


CHAP.  Ill 


WHAT  THE  PRESENT  IS 


179 


at  the  same  time. — Whence  comes  it  that  it  has 
been  possible  to  misunderstand  so  simple,  so 
evident  a truth,  one  which  is,  moreover,  the 
very  idea  of  common  sense  ? 

The  reason  lies  simply  in  the  fact  that  philoso- 
phers insist  on  regarding  the  difference  between 
Bnt  pure  actual  sensations  and  pure  memory  as  a 
whichTaeh  mere  difference  in  degree,  and  not  in  kind. 
mentUo!™he  In  our  view  the  difference  is  radical, 
is  essentially’  My  actual  sensations  occupy  definite  por- 

detached  J A J x 

from  life.  tions  of  the  surface  of  my  body  ; pure 

memory,  on  the  other  hand,  interests  no  part  of 
my  body.  No  doubt,  it  will  beget  sensations  as  it 
materializes  ; but  at  that  very  moment  it  will  cease 
to  be  a memory  and  pass  into  the  state  of  a present 
thing,  something  actually  lived ; and  I shall  only 
restore  to  it  its  character  of  memory  by  carrying 
myself  back  to  the  process  by  which  I called  it  up, 
as  it  was  virtual,  from  the  depths  of  my  past. 
It  is  just  because  I made  it  active  that  it  has 
become  actual,  that  is  to  say,  a sensation  capable 
of  provoking  movements.  But  most  psychologists 
see  in  pure  memory  only  a weakened  perception, 
an  assembly  of  nascent  sensations.  Having  thus 
effaced,  to  begin  with,  all  difference  in  kind  be- 
tween sensation  and  memory,  they  are  led  by  the 
logic  of  their  hypothesis  to  materialize  memory 
and  to  idealize  sensation.  They  perceive  memory 
only  in  the  form  of  an  image ; that  is  to  say,  already 
embodied  in  nascent  sensations.  Having  thus 
attributed  to  it  that  which  is  essential  to  sensa- 


i8o 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


tion,  and  refusing  to  see  in  the  ideality  of  memory 
something  distinct,  something  contrasted  with 
sensation  itself,  they  are  forced,  when  they  come 
back  to  pure  sensation,  to  leave  to  it  that  ideality 
with  which  they  have  thus  implicitly  endowed  nas- 
cent sensations.  For  if  the  past,  which  by  hypo- 
thesis is  no  longer  active,  can  subsist  in  the  form  of 
a weak  sensation,  there  must  be  sensations  that 
are  powerless.  If  pure  memory,  which  by  hypo- 
thesis interests  no  definite  part  of  the  body,  is  a 
nascent  sensation,  then  sensation  is  not  essentially 
localized  in  any  point  of  the  body.  Hence  the 
illusion  that  consists  in  regarding  sensation  as  an 
ethereal  and  unextended  state  which  acquires 
extension  and  consolidates  in  the  body  by  mere 
accident  : an  illusion  which  vitiates  profoundly, 
as  we  have  seen,  the  theory  of  external  perception, 
and  raises  a great  number  of  the  questions  at  issue 
between  the  various  metaphysics  of  matter.  We 
must  make  up  our  minds  to  it  : sensation  is,  in 
its  essence,  extended  and  localized  ; it  is  a source 
of  movement ; — pure  memory,  being  inextensive 
and  powerless,  does  not  in  any  degree  share  the 
nature  of  sensation. 

That  which  I call  my  present  is  my  attitude 
with  regard  to  the  immediate  future  ; it  is  my 
impending  action.  My  present  is,  then, 


when°actua-  sensori-motor.  Of  my  past,  that  alone 
image,  1 becomes  image  and  consequently  sensa- 
ttog*omme  tion,  at  least  nascent,  which  can  colla- 
p?rception.  borate  jn  that  action,  insert  itself  in 


CHAP.  Ill 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS 


181 


that  attitude,  in  a word  make  itself  useful ; but, 
from  the  moment  that  it  becomes  image,  the 
past  leaves  the  state  of  pure  memory  and  coin- 
cides with  a certain  part  of  my  present.  Memory 
actualized  in  an  image  differs,  then,  profoundly 
from  pure  memory.  The  image  is  a present  estate, 
and  its  sole  share  in  the  past  is  the  memory  whence 
it  arose.  Memory,  on  the  contrary,  powerless  as 
long  as  it  remains  without  utility,  is  pure  from 
all  admixture  of  sensation,  is  without  attachment 
to  the  present,  and  is  consequently  unextended. 

This  radical  powerlessness  of  pure  memory  is 
just  what  will  enable  us  to  understand  how  it  is 

preserved  in  a latent  state.  Without 
is  the  note  of  as  yet  going  to  the  heart  of  the  matter, 

tli6  present  , »/  o w 

therefore  pure  we  will  confine  ourselves  to  the  remark 
latent  and  that  our  unwillingness  to  conceive  un- 

uneonscions.  . , 7 . , , , . , 

conscious  psychical  states  is  due,  above 
all,  to  the  fact  that  we  hold  consciousness  to 
be  the  essential  property  of  psychical  states : 
so  that  a psychical  state  cannot,  it  seems,  cease 
to  be  conscious  without  ceasing  to  exist.  But 
if  consciousness  is  but  the  characteristic  note  of 
the  present,  that  is  to  say  of  the  actually  lived, 
in  short  of  the  active,  then  that  which  does  not 
act  may  cease  to  belong  to  consciousness  without 
therefore  ceasing  to  exist  in  some  manner.  In 
other  words,  in  the  psychological  domain,  con- 
sciousness may  not  be  the  synonym  of  existence, 
but  only  of  real  action  or  of  immediate  efficacy ; 
and,  limiting  thus  the  meaning  of  the  term,  we 


r82 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


shall  have  less  difficulty  in  representing  to  our- 
selves a psychical  state  which  is  unconscious,  that 
is  to  say,  ineffective.  Whatever  idea  we  may  frame 
of  consciousness  in  itself,  such  as  it  would  be  if  it 
could  work  untrammelled,  we  cannot  deny  that, 
in  a being  which  has  bodily  functions,  the  chief 
office  of  consciousness  is  to  preside  over  action 
and  to  enlighten  choice.  Therefore  it  throws 
light  on  the  immediate  antecedents  of  the  decision, 
and  on  those  past  recollections  which  can  usefully 
combine  with  it ; all  else  remains  in  shadow. 
But  we  find  here  once  more,  in  a new  form,  the 
ever-recurrent  illusion  which,  throughout  this  work, 
we  have  endeavoured  to  dispel.  It  is  supposed 
that  consciousness,  even  when  linked  with  bodily 
functions,  is  a faculty  that  is  only  accidentally 
practical,  and  is  directed  essentially  towards 
speculation.  Then,  since  we  cannot  see  what 
interest,  devoted  as  it  is  supposed  to  be  to  pure 
knowledge,  it  would  have  in  allowing  any  infor- 
mation that  it  possesses  to  escape,  we  fail  to  under- 
stand why  it  refuses  to  throw  light  on  something 
that  was  not  entirely  lost  to  it.  Whence  we  con- 
clude that  it  can  possess  nothing  more  de  jure 
than  what  it  holds  de  facto,  and  that,  in  the 
domain  of  consciousness,  all  that  is  real  is  actual. 
But  restore  to  consciousness  its  true  role  : there 
will  no  longer  be  any  more  reason  to  say  that 
the  past  effaces  itself  as  soon  as  perceived,  than 
there  is  to  suppose  that  material  objects  cease  to 
exist  when  we  cease  to  perceive  them. 


CHAP.  III 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS 


183 


We  must  insist  on  this  last  point,  for  here  we 
have  the  central  difficulty,  and  the  source  of  the 
ambiguities  which  surround  the  problem 

01  uncon-  p , , • * j r 

scions  mental  of  the  unconscious.  The  idea  01  an  un- 
erai.  Artifl-  conscious  representation  is  clear,  despite 

cial  difficulty  , • t 

raised  round  current  prejudice;  we  may  even  say 
the  uncon-  that  we  make  constant  use  of  it,  and 
that  there  is  no  conception  more  familiar 
to  common  sense.  For  every  one  admits  that  the 
images  actually  present  to  our  perception  are  not 
the  whole  of  matter.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
what  can  be  a non-perceived  material  object,  an 
image  not  imagined,  unless  it  is  a kind  of  uncon- 
scious mental  state  ? Beyond  the  walls  of  your 
room,  which  you  perceive  at  this  moment,  there 
are  the  adjoining  rooms,  then  the  rest  of  the 
house,  finally  the  street  and  the  town  in  which 
you  live.  It  signifies  little  to  which  theory  of 
matter  you  adhere  ; realist  or  idealist,  you  are 
evidently  thinking,  when  you  speak  of  the  town, 
of  the  street,  of  the  other  rooms  in  the  house,  of 
so  many  perceptions  absent  from  your  conscious- 
ness and  yet  given  outside  of  it.  They  are  not 
created  as  your  consciousness  receives  them  ; they 
existed,  then,  in  some  sort ; and  since,  by  hypothe- 
sis, your  consciousness  did  not  apprehend  them, 
how  could  they  exist  in  themselves  unless  in  the 
unconscious  state  ? How  comes  it  then  that  an 
existence  outside  of  consciousness  appears  clear  to 
us  in  the  case  of  objects,  but  obscure  when  we 
are  speaking  of  the  subject  ? Our  perceptions, 


184 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


actual  and  virtual,  extend  along  two  lines,  the 
one  horizontal,  AB,  which  contains  all  simultane- 
ous objects  in  space,  the  other  vertical,  Cl,  on 
which  are  ranged  our  successive  recollections 
set  out  in  time.  The  point  I,  at  the  intersection 
c of  the  two  lines,  is 

the  only  one  actually 
given  to  consciousness. 

^ Whence  comes  it  that 

2 — — - we  do  not  hesitate  to 

Fig  3 posit  the  reality  of  the 

whole  line  AB,  although 
it  remains  unperceived,  while,  on  the  contrary, 
of  the  line  Cl,  the  present  I which  is  actually 
perceived  is  the  only  point  which  appears  to 
us  really  to  exist  ? There  are,  at  the  bottom  of 
this  radical  distinction  between  the  two  series, 
temporal  and  spatial,  so  many  confused  or  half- 
formed  ideas,  so  many  hypotheses  devoid  of  any 
speculative  value,  that  we  cannot  all  at  once  make 
an  exhaustive  analysis  of  them.  In  order  to 
unmask  the  illusion  entirely,  we  should  have  to 
seek  at  its  origin,  and  follow  through  all  its  wind- 
ings, the  double  movement  by  which  we  come  to 
assume  objective  realities  without  relation  to 
consciousness,  and  states  of  consciousness  without 
objective  reality, — space  thus  appearing  to  pre- 
serve indefinitely  the  things  which  are  there 
juxtaposed,  while  time  in  its  advance  devours  the 
states  which  succeed  each  other  within  it.  Part 
of  this  work  has  been  done  in  our  first  chapter, 


CHAP.  Ill 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS 


185 


where  we  discussed  objectivity  in  general ; another 
part  will  be  dealt  with  in  the  last  pages  of  this 
book,  where  we  shall  speak  of  the  idea  of  matter. 
We  confine  ourselves  here  to  a few  essential  points. 

First,  the  objects  ranged  along  the  line  AB 
represent  to  our  eyes  what  we  are  going  to  per- 
ceive, while  the  line  Cl  contains  only  that  which 
has  already  been  perceived.  Now  the  past  has 
no  longer  any  interest  for  us ; it  has  exhausted 
its  possible  action,  or  will  only  recover  an  influence 
by  borrowing  the  vitality  of  the  present  percep- 
tion. The  immediate  future,  on  the  contrary, 
consists  in  an  impending  action,  in  an  energy 
not  yet  spent.  The  unperceived  part  of  the  ma- 
terial universe,  big  with  promises  and  threats, 
has  then  for  us  a reality  which  the  actually  un- 
perceived periods  of  our  past  existence  cannot 
and  should  not  possess.  But  this  distinction, 
which  is  entirely  relative  to  practical  utility  and 
to  the  material  needs  of  life,  takes  in  our  minds 
the  more  and  more  marked  form  of  a metaphysical 
distinction. 

We  have  shown  that  the  objects  which  sur- 
round us  represent,  in  varying  degrees,  an  action 
why  the  idea  which  we  can  accomplish  upon  things, 

of  an  existence  . . 0 

that  is  real  or  which  we  must  experience  from  them, 
perceived  ap-  The  date  of  fulfilment  of  this  possible 
clear  in  the  action  is  indicated  by  the  greater  or 
perceived  less  remoteness  of  the  corresponding  ob- 

object,  obscure  . . „ ...  . 

in  the  case  of  ject,  so  that  distance  in  space  mea- 
ceiveTidea.  sures  the  proximity  of  a threat  or  of 


i86 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


a promise  in  time.  Thus  space  furnishes  us  at 
once  with  the  diagram  of  our  near  future,  and,  as 
this  future  must  recede  indefinitely,  space  which 
symbolizes  it  has  for  its  property  to  remain,  in  its 
immobility,  indefinitely  open.  Hence  the  imme- 
diate horizon  given  to  our  perception  appears  to 
us  to  be  necessarily  surrounded  by  a wider  circle, 
existing  though  unperceived,  this  circle  itself 
implying  yet  another  outside  it  and  so  on,  ad 
infinitum.  It  is,  then,  of  the  essence  of  our  actual 
perception,  inasmuch  as  it  is  extended,  to  be 
always  only  a content  in  relation  to  a vaster,  even 
an  unlimited,  experience  which  contains  it ; and 
this  experience,  absent  from  our  consciousness, 
since  it  spreads  beyond  the  perceived  horizon, 
nevertheless  appears  to  be  actually  given.  But 
while  we  feel  ourselves  to  be  dependent  upon  these 
material  objects  which  we  thus  erect  into  present 
realities,  our  memories,  on  the  contrary,  inas- 
much as  they  are  past,  are  so  much  dead  weight 
that  we  carry  with  us,  and  by  which  we  prefer 
to  imagine  ourselves  unencumbered.  The  same 
instinct,  in  virtue  of  which  we  open  out  space 
indefinitely  before  us,  prompts  us  to  shut  off 
time  behind  us  as  it  flows.  And  while  reality, 
in  so  far  as  it  is  extended,  appears  to  us  to  over- 
pass infinitely  the  bounds  of  our  perception,  in 
our  inner  life  that  alone  seems  to  us  to  be  real 
which  begins  with  the  present  moment ; the  rest 
is  practically  abolished.  Then,  when  a memory 
reappears  in  consciousness,  it  produces  on  us  the 


CHAP.  ID 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS 


I87 


effect  of  a ghost  whose  mysterious  apparition 
must  be  explained  by  special  causes.  In  truth, 
the  adherence  of  this  memory  to  our  present 
condition  is  exactly  comparable  to  the  adherence 
of  unperceived  objects  to  those  objects  which  we 
perceive  ; and  the  unconscious  plays  in  each  case 
a similar  part. 

But  we  have  great  difficulty  in  representing 
the  matter  to  ourselves  in  this  way,  because  we 
have  fallen  into  the  habit  of  emphasizing  the 
differences  and,  on  the  contrary,  of  slurring  over 
the  resemblances,  between  the  series  of  objects 
simultaneously  set  out  in  space  and  that  of 
states  successively  developed  in  time.  In  the  first, 
the  terms  condition  each  other  in  a manner 
which  is  entirely  determined,  so  that  the  appear- 
ance of  each  new  term  may  be  foreseen.  Thus 
I know,  when  I leave  my  room,  what  other 
rooms  I shall  go  through.  On  the  contrary,  my 
memories  present  themselves  in  an  order  which 
is  apparently  capricious.  The  order  of  the  repre- 
sentations is  then  necessary  in  the  one  case, 
contingent  in  the  other  ; and  it  is  this  necessity 
which  I hypostatize,  as  it  were,  when  I speak 
of  the  existence  of  objects  outside  of  all  conscious- 
ness. If  I see  no  inconvenience  in  supposing 
given  the  totality  of  objects  which  I do  not  per- 
ceive, it  is  because  the  strictly  determined  order 
of  these  objects  lends  to  them  the  appearance  of  a 
chain,  of  which  my  present  perception  is  only 
one  link.  This  link  communicates  its  actuality 


i88 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II J 


to  the  rest  of  the  chain. — But,  if  we  look  at  the 
matter  nearly,  we  shall  see  that  our  memories 
form  a chain  of  the  same  kind,  and  that  our  char- 
acter, always  present  in  all  our  decisions,  is  indeed 
the  actual  synthesis  of  all  our  past  states.  In 
this  epitomized  form  our  previous  psychical  life 
exists  for  us  even  more  than  the  external  world, 
of  which  we  never  perceive  more  than  a very  small 
part,  whereas  on  the  contrary  we  use  the  whole 
of  our  lived  experience.  It  is  true  that  we  possess 
merely  a digest  of  it,  and  that  our  former  percep- 
tions, considered  as  distinct  individualities,  seem 
to  us  to  have  completely  disappeared,  or  to 
appear  again  only  at  the  bidding  of  their  caprice. 
But  this  semblance  of  complete  destruction  or  of 
capricious  revival  is  due  merely  to  the  fact  that 
actual  consciousness  accepts  at  each  moment  the 
useful,  and  rejects  in  the  same  breath  the  super- 
fluous. Ever  bent  upon  action,  it  can  only  ma- 
terialize those  of  our  former  perceptions  which 
can  ally  themselves  with  the  present  perception  to 
take  a share  in  the  final  decision.  If  it  is  neces- 
sary, when  I would  manifest  my  will  at  a given 
point  of  space,  that  my  consciousness  should  go 
successively  through  those  intermediaries  or  those 
obstacles  of  which  the  sum  constitutes  what  we  call 
distance  in  space,  so  on  the  other  hand  it  is  useful, 
in  order  to  throw  light  on  this  action,  that  my  con- 
sciousness should  jump  the  interval  of  time  which 
separates  the  actual  situation  from  a former  one 
which  resembles  it ; and  as  consciousness  goes 


CHAP,  ni 


EXISTENCE 


189 


back  to  the  earlier  date  at  a bound,  all  the  inter- 
mediate past  escapes  its  hold.  The  same  reasons, 
then,  which  bring  about  that  our  perceptions  range 
themselves  in  strict  continuity  in  space,  cause  our 
memories  to  be  illumined  discontinuously  in  time. 
We  have  not,  in  regard  to  objects  unperceived  in 
space  and  unconscious  memories  in  time,  to  do 
with  two  radically  different  forms  of  existence  ; 
but  the  exigencies  of  action  are  the  inverse  in  the 
one  case  of  what  they  are  in  the  other. 

But  here  we  come  to  the  capital  problem  of 
existence,  a problem  we  can  only  glance  at,  for 
Existence  im-  otherwise  it  would  lead  us  step  by  step 
conscious  into  the  heart  of  metaphysics.  We  will 
^regular11  merely  say  that  with  regard  to  matters 
bnuhwfmay  experience — which  alone  concern  us 

degrees^?4  here — existence  appears  to  imply  two 
either.  conditions  taken  together  : (1)  presenta- 
tion in  consciousness ; and  (2)  the  logical  or 
causal  connexion  of  that  which  is  so  presented 
with  what  precedes  and  with  what  follows.  The 
reality  for  us  of  a psychical  state  or  of  a 
material  object  consists  in  the  double  fact  that 
our  consciousness  perceives  them  and  that  they 
form  part  of  a series,  temporal  or  spatial,  of  which 
the  elements  determine  each  other.  But  these 
two  conditions  admit  of  degrees,  and  it  is  conceiv- 
able that,  though  both  are  necessary,  they  may  be 
unequally  fulfilled.  Thus,  in  the  case  of  actual 
internal  states,  the  connexion  is  less  close,  and 
the  determination  of  the  present  by  the  past,  leav- 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


190 


ing  ample  room  for  contingency,  has  not  the 
character  of  a mathematical  derivation ; — but 
then,  presentation  in  consciousness  is  perfect, 
an  actual  psychical  state  yielding  the  whole 
of  its  content  in  the  act  itself  whereby  we 
perceive  it.  On  the  contrary,  if  we  are  dealing 
with  external  objects  it  is  the  connexion  which  is 
perfect,  since  these  objects  obey  necessary  laws  ; 
but  then  the  other  condition,  presentation  in  con- 
sciousness, is  never  more  than  partially  fulfilled, 
for  the  material  object,  just  because  of  the  multi- 
tude of  unperceived  elements  by  which  it  is  linked 
with  all  other  objects,  appears  to  enfold  within 
itself  and  to  hide  behind  it  infinitely  more  than 
it  allows  to  be  seen. — We  ought  to  say,  then,  that 
existence,  in  the  empirical  sense  of  the  word, 
always  implies  conscious  apprehension  and  regular 
connexion  ; both  at  the  same  time  but  in  different 
degrees.  But  our  intellect,  of  which  the  function 
is  to  establish  clear-cut  distinctions,  does  not  so 
understand  things.  Rather  than  admit  the 
presence  in  all  cases  of  the  two  elements  mingled 

The  fallacy  in  varying  proportions,  it  prefers  to 
consists  in  dis-  dissociate  them,  and  thus  attribute 

tinguishing 

two  kinds  of  to  external  objects  on  the  one  hand,  and 

existence  J 

characterized  to  internal  states  on  the  other,  two  radi- 

the  one  by 

conscious  -ally  different  modes  of  existence,  each 

apprehension,  J 

and  the  other  characterized  by  the  exclusive  presence  of 

by  regular  J r 

connexion.  the  condition  which  should  be  regarded 
as  merely  preponderating.  Then  the  existence  of 
psychical  states  is  assumed  to  consist  entirely  in 


CHAP  III. 


RELATION  OF  PAST  AND  PRESENT  igi 


their  apprehension  by  consciousness,  and  that  of  ex- 
ternal phenomena,  entirely  also,  in  the  strict  order  of 
their  concomitance  and  their  succession.  Whence 
the  impossibility  of  leaving  to  material  objects, 
existing,  but  unperceived,  the  smallest  share  in 
consciousness,  and  to  internal  unconscious  states 
the  smallest  share  in  existence.  We  have  shown, 
at  the  beginning  of  this  book,  the  consequences 
of  the  first  illusion  : it  ends  by  falsifying  our 
representation  of  matter.  The  second,  comple- 
mentary to  the  first,  vitiates  our  conception  of 
mind  by  casting  over  the  idea  of  the  unconscious 
an  artificial  obscurity.  The  whole  of  our  past 
psychical  life  conditions  our  present  state,  with- 
out being  its  necessary  determinant  ; whole, 
also,  it  reveals  itself  in  our  character,  although 
no  one  of  its  past  states  manifests  itself  explicitly 
in  character.  Taken  together,  these  two  con- 
ditions assure  to  each  one  of  the  past  psychological 
states  a real,  though  an  unconscious,  existence. 

But  we  are  so  much  accustomed  to  reverse, 
for  the  sake  of  action,  the  real  order  of  things, 
But,  it  mem-  we  are  so  strongly  obsessed  by  images 
?erved^uapre"  drawn  from  space,  that  we  cannot  hin- 
whSerare  der  ourselves  from  asking  where  mem- 
Svoived  inacy  ories  are  stored  up.  We  understand 
the  question.  ^hat  physico-chemical  phenomena  take 

place  in  the  brain,  that  the  brain  is  in  the  body, 
the  body  in  the  air  which  surrounds  it,  etc. ; 
but  the  past,  once  achieved,  if  it  is  retained, 
where  is  it  ? To  locate  it  in  the  cerebral  sub- 


192 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


stance,  in  the  state  of  molecular  modification, 
seems  clear  and  simple  enough,  because  then  we 
have  a receptacle,  actually  given,  which  we  have 
only  to  open  in  order  to  let  the  latent  images 
flow  into  consciousness.  But  if  the  brain  cannot 
serve  such  a purpose,  in  what  warehouse  shall 
we  store  the  accumulated  images  ? — We  forget 
that  the  relation  of  container  to  content  borrows 
its  apparent  clearness  and  universality  from  the 
necessity  laid  upon  us  of  always  opening  out  space 
in  front  of  us,  and  of  always  closing  duration  be- 
hind us.  Because  it  has  been  shown  that  one  thing 
is  within  another,  the  phenomenon  of  its  preserva- 
tion is  not  thereby  made  any  clearer.  We  may 
even  go  further : let  us  admit  for  a moment  that 
the  past  survives  in  the  form  of  a memory  stored 
in  the  brain  ; it  is  then  necessary  that  the  brain, 
in  order  to  preserve  the  memory,  should  pre- 
serve itself.  But  the  brain,  in  so  far  as  it  is  an 
image  extended  in  space,  never  occupies  more 
than  the  present  moment : it  constitutes,  with  all 
the  rest  of  the  material  universe,  an  ever  renewed 
section  of  universal  becoming.  Either,  then, 
you  must  suppose  that  this  universe  dies  and  is 
bom  again  miraculously  at  each  moment  of  dura- 
tion, or  you  must  attribute  to  it  that  continuity  of 
existence  which  you  deny  to  consciousness,  and 
make  of  its  past  a reality  which  endures  and  is  pro- 
longed into  its  present.  So  that  you  have  gained 
nothing  by  depositing  the  memories  in  matter, 
and  you  find  yourself,  on  the  contrary,  compelled 


chap,  in  RELATION  OF  PAST  AND  PRESENT 


193 


to  extend  to  the  totality  of  the  states  of  the  ma- 
terial world  that  complete  and  independent  sur- 
vival of  the  past  which  you  have  just  refused  to 
psychical  states.  This  survival  of  the  past  per 
se  forces  itself  upon  philosophers,  then,  under  one 
form  or  another  ; and  the  difficulty  that  we  have 
in  conceiving  it  comes  simply  from  the  fact 
that  we  extend  to  the  series  of  memories,  in  time, 
that  obligation  of  containing  and  being  contained 
which  applies  only  to  the  collection  of  bodies 
instantaneously  perceived  in  space.  The  funda- 
mental illusion  consists  in  transferring  to  dura- 
tion itself,  in  its  continuous  flow,  the  form  of 
the  instantaneous  sections  which  we  make  in  it. 

But  how  can  the  past,  which,  by  hypothesis, 
has  ceased  to  be,  preserve  itself  ? Have  we  not 
here  a real  contradiction  ? — We  reply 

TJie  past  has  ...  r J 

not  ceased  to  that  the  question  is  just  whether  the 

only  ceased  past  has  ceased  to  exist  or  whether  it 
has  simply  ceased  to  be  useful.  You 
define  the  present  in  an  arbitrary  manner  as  that 
which  is,  whereas  the  present  is  simply  what  is 
being  made.  Nothing  is  less  than  the  present 
moment,  if  you  understand  by  that  the  indivisible 
limit  which  divides  the  past  from  the  future. 
When  we  think  this  present  as  going  to  be,  it  exists 
not  yet ; and  when  we  think  it  as  existing,  it  is 
already  past.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  what  you  are 
considering  is  the  concrete  present  such  as  it  is  act- 
ually lived  by  consciousness,  we  may  say  that  this 
present  consists,  in  large  measure,  in  the  immediate 


o 


T94 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II 


past.  In  the  fraction  of  a second  which  covers 
the  briefest  possible  perception  of  light,  billions 
of  vibrations  have  taken  place,  of  which  the  first 
is  separated  from  the  last  by  an  interval  which  is 
enormously  divided.  Your  perception,  however 
instantaneous,  consists  then  in  an  incalculable 
multitude  of  remembered  elements  ; and  in  truth 
every  perception  is  already  memory.  Practically 
we  perceive  only  the  past,  the  pure  present  being 
the  invisible  progress  of  the  past  gnawing  into 
the  future. 

Consciousness,  then,  illumines,  at  each  moment 
of  time,  that  immediate  part  of  the  past  which, 
impending  over  the  future,  seeks  to  realize 
and  to  associate  with  it.  Solely  preoccupied  in 
thus  determining  an  undetermined  future,  con- 
sciousness may  shed  a little  of  its  light  on  those 
of  our  states,  more  remote  in  the  past,  which  can 
be  usefully  combined  with  our  present  state, 
that  is  to  say,  with  our  immediate  past : the  rest 
remains  in  the  dark.  It  is  in  this  illuminated  part 
of  our  history  that  we  remain  seated,  in  virtue  of 


the  fundamental  law  of  life,  which  is  a law  of 
action : hence  the  difficulty  we  experience  in  con-  1 1 
ceiving  memories  which  are  preserved  in  the  i 
shadow.  Our  reluctance  to  admit  the  integral  If! 
survival  of  the  past  has  its  origin,  then,  in  the  f ii 
very  bent  of  our  psychical  life, — an  unfolding  of 
states  wherein  our  interest  prompts  us  to  look  at  Jtr 
that  which  is  unrolling,  and  not  at  that  which  is  liii 


entirely  unrolled. 


chap,  hi  RELATION  OF  PAST  AND  PRESENT  I95 


So  we  return,  after  a long  digression,  to  our 
point  of  departure.  There  are,  we  have  said,  two 
The  two  memories  which  are  profoundly  dis- 
toTthehr  tinct  : the  one,  fixed  in  the  organism, 
Eachbowows  is  nothing  else  but  the  complete  set  of 
fupportstae  intelligently  constructed  mechanisms 
other.  which  ensure  the  appropriate  reply  to 
the  various  possible  demands.  This  memory 
enables  us  to  adapt  ourselves  to  the  present  situa- 
tion ; through  it  the  actions  to  which  we  are  sub- 
ject prolong  themselves  into  reactions  that  are 
sometimes  accomplished,  sometimes  merely  nas- 
cent, but  always  more  or  less  appropriate.  Habit 
rather  than  memory,  it  acts  our  past  experience 
but  does  not  call  up  its  image.  The  other  is  the 
true  memory.  Co-extensive  with  consciousness, 
it  retains  and  ranges  alongside  of  each  other  all 
our  states  in  the  order  in  which  they  occur, 
leaving  to  each  fact  its  place  and  consequently 
marking  its  date,  truly  moving  in  the  past  and 
not,  like  the  first,  in  an  ever  renewed  present.  But, 
in  marking  the  profound  distinction  between 
these  two  forms  of  memory,  we  have  not  shown 
their  connecting  link.  Above  the  body,  with  its 
mechanisms  which  symbolize  the  accumulated 
effort  of  past  actions,  the  memory  which  ima- 
gines and  repeats  has  been  left  to  hang,  as  it 
were,  suspended  in  the  void.  Now,  if  it  be 
true  that  we  never  perceive  anything  but  our 
immediate  past,  if  our  consciousness  of  the 
present  is  already  memory,  the  two  terms 


ig6 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


which  had  been  separated  to  begin  with  cohere 
closely  together.  Seen  from  this  new  point  of 
view,  indeed,  our  body  is  nothing  but  that  part 
of  our  representation  which  is  ever  being  born 
again,  the  part  always  present,  or  rather  that 
which  at  each  moment  is  just  past.  Itself  an 
image,  the  body  cannot  store  up  images,  since 
it  forms  a part  of  the  images;  and  this  is  why  it 
is  a chimerical  enterprise  to  seek  to  localize  past 
or  even  present  perceptions  in  the  brain  : they 
are  not  in  it  ; it  is  the  brain  that  is  in  them.  But 


this  special  image  which  persists  in  the  midst  of 


the  others,  and  which  I call  my  body,  constitutes 
at  every  moment,  as  we  have  said,  a section  of 
the  universal  becoming.  It  is  then  the  place  of 
passage  of  the  movements  received  and  thrown 
back,  a hyphen,  a connecting  link  between  the 
things  which  act  upon  me  and  the  things  upon 
which  I act, — the  seat,  in  a word,  of  the  sensori- 
motor phenomena.  If  I represent  by  a cone  SAB 
the  totality  of  the  recollections  accumulated  in 
my  memory,  the  base  AB,  situated  in  the  past, 
remains  motionless,  while  the  summit  S,  which 
indicates  at  all  times  my  present,  moves  forward 


unceasingly,  and  unceasingly  also  touches  the 


moving  plane  P of  my  actual  representation 
of  the  universe.  At  S the  image  of  the  body 


a 


is  concentrated ; and,  since  it  belongs  to  the 
plane  P,  this  image  does  but  receive  and  restore 
actions  emanating  from  all  the  images  of  which 
the  plane  is  composed. 


chap,  nr  RELATION  OF  PAST  AND  PRESENT  197 


The  bodily  memory,  made  up  of  the  sum  of  the 
sensori-motor  systems  organized  by  habit,  is  then 
a quasi-instantaneous  mem- 


pointed  end,  ever  moving, 
inserted  by  the  second  in  the 
shifting  plane  of  experience, it  is  natural  that  the  two 
functions  should  lend  each  other  a mutual  support. 
So,  on  the  one  hand,  the  memory  of  the  past  offers 
to  the  sensori-motor  mechanisms  all  the  recollections 
capable  of  guiding  them  in  their  task  and  of  giv- 
ing to  the  motor  reaction  the  direction  suggested 
by  the  lessons  of  experience.  It  is  in  just  this 
that  the  associations  of  contiguity  and  likeness 
consist.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  sensori-motor 
apparatus  furnish  to  ineffective,  that  is  uncon- 
scious, memories,  the  means  of  taking  on  a body, 
of  materializing  themselves,  in  short  of  becoming 
present.  For,  that  a recollection  should  reappear 
in  consciousness,  it  is  necessary  that  it  should 
descend  from  the  heights  of  pure  memory  down 
to  the  precise  point  where  action  is  taking  place. 
In  other  words,  it  is  from  the  present  that  comes 
the  appeal  to  which  memory  responds,  and  it 
is  from  the  sensori-motor  elements  of  present 
action  that  a memory  borrows  the  warmth  which 
gives  it  life. 


ory  to  which  the  true  memory 
of  the  past  serves  as  base. 
Since  they  are  not  two  separ- 
ate things,  since  the  first  is 
only,  as  we  have  said,  the 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


rgS 


Is  it  not  by  the  constancy  of  this  agreement, 
by  the  precision  with  which  these  two  comple- 
mentary memories  insert  themselves 
coMistsmlin- eacb  into  the  other,  that  we  recognize  a 
5etor£ff2S  * weH-balanced  ’ mind,  that  is  to  say, 

oi  spontan-  jn  fact,  a man  nicely  adapted  to  life  ? 

The  characteristic  of  the  man  of  action 
is  the  promptitude  with  which  he  summons 
to  the  help  of  a given  situation  all  the  mem- 
ories which  have  reference  to  it ; but  it  is  also  the 
insurmountable  barrier  which  encounter,  when  they 
present  themselves  on  the  threshold  of  his  con- 
sciousness, memories  that  are  useless  or  indiffer- 
ent. To  live  only  in  the  present,  to  respond 
to  a stimulus  by  the  immediate  reaction  which 
prolongs  it,  is  the  mark  of  the  lower  animals : 
the  man  who  proceeds  in  this  way  is  a man  of  im- 
pulse. But  he  who  lives  in  the  past  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  living  there,  and  in  whom  recollections 
emerge  into  the  light  of  consciousness  without 
any  advantage  for  the  present  situation,  is 
hardly  better  fitted  for  action  : here  we  have  no 
man  of  impulse,  but  a dreamer.  Between  these 
two  extremes  lies  the  happy  disposition  of  a 
memory  docile  enough  to  follow  with  precision 
all  the  outlines  of  the  present  situation,  but  ener- 
getic enough  to  resist  all  other  appeal.  Good 
sense,  or  practical  sense,  is  probably  nothing  but 
this. 

The  extraordinary  development  of  spontaneous 
memory  in  most  children  is  due  to  the  fact  that 


chap.  Ill  RELATION  OF  PAST  AND  PRESENT  I99 

they  have  not  yet  persuaded  their  memory  to 
remain  bound  up  with  their  conduct.  They 
usually  follow  the  impression  of  the  moment, 
and  as  with  them  action  does  not  bow  to  the 
suggestions  of  memory,  so  neither  are  their  recol- 
lections limited  to  the  necessities  of  action. 
They  seem  to  retain  with  greater  facility  only 
because  they  remember  with  less  discernment. 
The  apparent  diminution  of  memory,  as  intellect 
developes,  is  then  due  to  the  growing  organi- 
zation of  recollections  with  acts.  Thus  con- 
scious memory  loses  in  range  what  it  gains 
in  force  of  penetration : it  had  at  first  the 

facility  of  the  memory  of  dreams,  but  then 
it  was  actually  dreaming.  Indeed  we  observe 
this  same  exaggeration  of  spontaneous  mem- 
ory in  men  whose  intellectual  development 
hardly  goes  beyond  that  of  childhood.  A mis- 
sionary, after  preaching  a long  sermon  to  some 
African  savages,  heard  one  of  them  repeat  it  tex- 
tually,  with  the  same  gestures,  from  beginning  to 
end.1 

But,  if  almost  the  whole  of  our  past  is  hidden 
from  us  because  it  is  inhibited  by  the  necessities 
of  present  action,  it  will  find  strength  to  cross  the 
threshold  of  consciousness  in  all  cases  where  we 
renounce  the  interests  of  effective  action  to  replace 
ourselves,  so  to  speak,  in  the  life  of  dreams.  Sleep, 
natural  or  artificial,  brings  about  an  indifference 

1 Kay,  Memory  and  How  to  Improve  it.  New  York,  1888, 
p.  18. 


200 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP,  in 


of  just  this  kind.  It  has  been  recently  suggested 
that  in  sleep  there  is  an  interruption  of  the  con- 
tact between  the  nervous  elements,  motor  and 
sensory.1  Even  if  we  do  not  accept  this  in- 
genious hypothesis,  it  is  impossible  not  to  see 
in  sleep  a relaxing,  even  if  only  functional,  of 
the  tension  of  the  nervous  system,  ever  ready, 
during  waking  hours,  to  prolong  by  an  appropriate 
reaction  the  stimulation  received . N ow  the  exalta- 
tion of  the  memory  in  certain  dreams  and  in  cer- 
tain somnambulistic  states  is  well  known.  Mem- 
ories which  we  believed  abolished  then  reappear 
with  striking  completeness  ; we  live  over  again, 
in  all  their  detail,  forgotten  scenes  of  childhood  ; 
we  speak  languages  which  we  no  longer  even 
remember  to  have  learnt.  But  there  is  nothing 
more  instructive  in  this  regard  than  what  hap- 
pens in  cases  of  sudden  suffocation,  in  men 
drowned  or  hanged.  The  man,  when  brought  to 
life  again,  states  that  he  saw,  in  a very  short 
time,  all  the  forgotten  events  of  his  life  passing 
before  him  with,  great  rapidity,  with  their  smallest 
circumstances  and  in  the  very  order  in  which 
they  occurred.2 

1 Mathias  Duval,  Theorie  histologique  du  sommeil  ( C . R.  de 
la  Soc.  de  Biologie,  1895,  p.  74).  Cf.  Lepine,  ibid.,  p.  85  and 
Revue  de  Medecine,  Aug.  1894,  and  especially  Pupin,  Le 
neurone  et  les  hypotheses  histologiques,  Paris,  1896. 

2 Forbes  Winslow,  Obscure  Diseases  of  the  Brain,  p.  25 
et  seq.' — Ribot,  Maladies  de  la  memoire,  p.  139  et  seq. — Mauro, 
Le  sommeil  et  les  reves,  Paris,  1878,  p.  439.— Egger,  Lc  moi 
des  mourants  ( Revue  philosopliique , Jan.  and  Oct.  1896). — 


chap,  in  MEMORY  AND  GENERAL  IDEAS  201 

A human  being  who  should  dream  his  life  in- 
stead of  living  it  would  no  doubt  thus  keep  before 
Spontaneous  his  eyes  at  each  moment  the  infinite  mul- 
recaUsfdiser-  titude  of  the  details  of  his  past  history. 
me°moryab,t  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  man  who 
atoieir^’  should  repudiate  this  memory  with  all 
piaceafises  that  it  begets  would  be  continually 
ideagecerai  acting  his  life  instead  of  truly  repre- 
senting it  to  himself : a conscious  automaton, 
he  would  follow  the  lead  of  useful  habits  which 
prolong  into  an  appropriate  reaction  the  stimula- 
tion received.  The  first  would  never  rise  above 
the  particular,  or  even  above  the  individual ; 
leaving  to  each  image  its  date  in  time  and  its 
position  in  space,  he  would  see  wherein  it  differs 
from  others  and  not  how  it  resembles  them.  The 
other,  always  swayed  by  habit,  would  only  dis- 
tinguish in  any  situation  that  aspect  in  which  it 
practically  resembles  former  situations ; incapable, 
doubtless,  of  thinking  universals,  since  every 
general  idea  implies  the  representation,  at  least 
virtual,  of  a number  of  remembered  images,  he 
would  nevertheless  move  in  the  universal,  habit 
being  to  action  what  generality  is  to  thought. 
But  these  two  extreme  states,  the  one  of  an 
entirely  contemplative  memory  which  appre- 
hends only  the  singular  in  its  vision,  the  other 
of  a purely  motor  memory  which  stamps  the  note 

Cf.  Ball’s  dictum  : ‘ Memory  is  a faculty  which  loses  nothing 
and  records  everything.’  (Quoted  by  Rouillard,  Les  amnesies 
[medical  thesis],  Paris,  1885,  p.  25.) 


202 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


of  generality  on  its  action,  are  really  apart  and 
are  fully  visible  only  in  exceptional  cases.  In 
normal  life  they  are  interpenetrating,  so  that 
each  has  to  abandon  some  part  of  its  original 
purity.  The  first  reveals  itself  in  the  recollection 
of  differences,  the  second  in  the  perception  of 
resemblances  : at  the  meeting  of  the  two  currents 
appears  the  general  idea. 

We  are  not  here  concerned  to  settle  once  for  all 
the  whole  question  of  general  ideas.  Some  there 
are  that  have  not  originated  in  perception  alone, 
and  that  have  but  a very  distant  connexion 
with  material  objects.  We  will  leave  these 
on  one  side,  and  consider  only  those  general 
ideas  that  are  founded  on  what  we  have 
called  the  perception  of  similarity.  We  will  try 
to  follow  pure  memory,  integral  memory,  in  the 
continuous  effort  which  it  makes  to  insert  itself 
into  motor  habit.  In  this  way  we  may  throw 
more  light  upon  the  office  and  nature  of  this 
memory,  and  perhaps  make  clearer,  at  the  same 
time,  by  regarding  them  in  this  particular  aspect, 
the  two  equally  obscure  notions  of  resemblance 
and  of  generality. 

If  we  consider  as  closely  as  possible  the  diffi- 
culties of  a psychological  order  which  surround 

the  problem  of  general  ideas,  we  shall 
andconcep-  come,  we  believe,  to  enclose  them  m 
revolve  in  a this  circle  : to  generalize,  it  is  first  of 

c^de  each 

leading  back  all  necessary  to  abstract,  but  to  abstract 

to  the  other.  , . , , , 

to  any  purpose  we  must  already  know 


CHAP.  Ill 


MEMORY  AND  GENERAL  IDEAS 


203 


how  to  generalize.  Round  this  circle  gravitate, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  nominalism  and 
conceptualism,  each  doctrine  having  in  its  fav- 
our mainly  the  insufficiency  of  the  other.  The 
nominalists,  retaining  of  the  general  idea  only  its 
extension,  see  in  it  merely  an  open  and  unlimited 
series  of  individual  objects.  .The  unity  of  the 
idea  can  then,  for  them,  consist  only  in  the  identity 
of  the  symbol  by  which  we  designate  indiffer- 
ently all  these  distinct  objects.  According  to 
them,  we  begin  by  perceiving  a thing,  and  then 
we  assign  to  it  a word  : this  word,  backed  by 
the  faculty  or  the  habit  of  extending  itself  to  an 
unlimited  number  of  other  things,  then  sets  up  for 
a general  idea.  But,  in  order  that  the  word 
should  extend  and  yet  limit  itself  to  the  objects 
which  it  designates,  it  is  necessary  that  these 
objects  should  offer  us  resemblances  which, 
when  we  compare  them,  shall  distinguish  them 
from  all  the  objects  to  which  the  word  does  not 
apply.  Generalization  does  not,  consequently, 
occur  without  our  taking  into  account  qualities 
that  have  been  found  to  be  common  and  there- 
fore considered  in  the  abstract ; and  from  step  to 
step,  nominalism  is  thus  led  to  define  the  general 
idea  by  its  intension  and  not  merely  by  its  exten- 
sion, as  it  set  out  to  do.  It  is  just  from  this  in- 
tension that  conceptualism  starts ; the  intellect,  on 
this  theory,  resolves  the  superficial  unity  of  the 
individual  into  different  qualities,  each  of  which, 
isolated  from  the  individual  which  limited  it,  be- 


204 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap.  m. 


comes  by  that  very  isolation  representative  of  a 
genus.  Instead  of  regarding  each  genus  as  includ- 
ing actually  a multiplicity  of  objects,  it  is  now  main- 
tained, on  the  contrary,  that  each  object  involves 
potentially,  and  as  so  many  qualities  which  it  holds 
captive,  a multiplicity  of  genera.  But  the  ques- 
tion before  us  is  whether  individual  qualities, 
even  isolated  by  an  effort  of  abstraction,  do  not 
remain  individual ; and  whether,  to  make  them 
into  genera,  a new  effort  of  the  mind  is  not  re- 
quired, by  which  it  first  bestows  on  each  quality 
a name,  and  then  collects  under  this  name  a 
multitude  of  individual  objects.  The  whiteness 
of  a lily  is  not  the  whiteness  of  a snow-field  ; they 
remain,  even  as  isolated  from  the  snow  and  the 
lily,  snow-white  or  lily-white.  They  only  forego 
their  individuality  if  we  consider  their  likeness  in 
order  to  give  them  a common  name  ; then,  apply- 
ing this  name  to  an  unlimited  number  of  similar 
objects,  we  throw  back  upon  the  quality,  by  a 
sort  of  ricochet,  the  generality  which  the  word 
went  out  to  seek  in  its  application  to  things. 
But,  reasoning  in  this  way,  do  we  not  return  to 
the  point  of  view  of  extension,  which  we  just  now 
abandoned  ? We  are  then,  in  truth,  revolving 
in  a circle,  nominalism  leading  us  to  conceptualism, 
and  conceptualism  bringing  us  back  to  nominalism. 
Generalization  can  only  be  effected  by  extracting 
common  qualities ; but,  that  qualities  should 
appear  common,  they  must  have  already  been 
subjected  to  a process  of  generalization. 


CHAP  III. 


MEMORY  AND  GENERAL  IDEAS 


205 


Now,  when  we  get  to  the  bottom  of  these  two 
opposite  theories,  we  find  in  them  a common 
postulate  ; each  will  have  it  that  we  start  from 
the  perception  of  individual  objects.  The  first 
composes  the  genus  by  an  enumeration ; the 
second  disengages  it  by  an  analysis  ; but  it  is 
upon  individuals,  considered  as  so  many  realities 
given  to  immediate  intuition,  that  both  analysis 
and  enumeration  are  supposed  to  bear.  This  is 
the  postulate.  In  spite  of  its  apparent  obvious- 
ness, we  must  expect  to  find,  and  we  do  indeed 
find,  that  experience  belies  it. 

A priori,  indeed,  we  may  expect  the  clear  dis- 
tinction of  individual  objects  to  be  a luxury  of 
perception,  just  as  the  clear  repre- 

jjj0  ciear  A J 1 

perception  ot  sentation  of  general  ideas  is  a refinement 

objects  and  of  the  intellect.  The  full  conception 
tii6  clear  • 

conception  of  of  genera  is  no  doubt  proper  to  human 
aHkeronate  thought ; it  demands  an  effort  of  reflex- 

development.  , . . , r 

ion,  by  which  we  expunge  from  a repre- 
sentation the  details  of  time  and  place.  But  the  re- 
flexion on  these  details — a reflexion  without  which 
the  individuality  of  objects  would  escape  us— pre- 
supposes a faculty  of  noticing  differences,  and 
therefore  a memory  of  images,  which  is  certainly 
the  privilege  of  man  and  of  the  higher  animals. 
It  would  seem,  then,  that  we  start  neither 
from  the  perception  of  the  individual  nor  from 
the  conception  of  the  genus,  but  from  an  inter- 
mediate knowledge,  from  a confused  sense  of  the 
striking  quality  or  of  resemblance  : this  sense, 


206 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IU 


equally  remote  from  generality  fully  conceived 
and  from  individuality  clearly  perceived,  begets 
them  both  by  a process  of  dissociation.  Reflective 
analysis  clarifies  it  into  the  general  idea  ; dis- 
criminative memory  solidifies  it  into  a perception 
of  the  individual. 

But  this  will  be  more  clearly  evident  if  we  go 
back  to  the  purely  utilitarian  origin  of  our  per- 
ception of  things.  That  which  interests  us  in  a 
given  situation,  that  which  we  are  likely  to  grasp 
in  it  first,  is  the  side  by  which  it  can  respond  to 
a tendency  or  a need.  But  a need  goes  straight 
to  the  resemblance  or  quality  ; it  cares  little  for 
individual  differences.  To  this  discernment  of  the 
useful  we  may  surmise  that  the  perception  of 
animals  is,  in  most  cases,  confined.  It  is  grass 
in  general  which  attracts  the  herbivorous  animal : 
the  colour  and  the  smell  of  grass,  felt  and  ex- 
perienced as  forces,  (we  do  not  go  so  far  as  to 
say,  thought  as  qualities  or  genera)  are  the  sole 
immediate  data  of  its  external  perception.  On  this 
For  the  background  of  generality  or  of  resem- 
EepTionyisa"  Glance  the  animal's  memory  may  show 
up  contrasts  from  which  will  issue  dif- 
quality tin  ferentiations ; it  will  then  distinguish 

things.  one  countryside  from  another,  one  field 
from  another  field  ; but  this  is,  we  repeat,  the  super- 
fluity of  perception,  not  a necessary  part.  It  may 
be  urged  that  we  are  only  throwing  the  problem 
further  back,  that  we  are  merely  relegating  to 
the  unconscious  the  process  by  which  similarity 


CHAP.  Ill 


MEMORY  AND  GENERAL  IDEAS 


20  7 


is  discovered  and  genera  are  constituted.  But 
we  relegate  nothing  to  the  unconscious,  for  the 
very  simple  reason  that  it  is  not,  in  our  opinion, 
an  effort  of  a psychological  nature  which  here  dis- 
engages similarity  ; this  similarity  acts  objectively 
like  a force,  and  provokes  reactions  that  are  iden- 
tical in  virtue  of  the  purely  physical  law  which  re- 
quires that  the  same  general  effects  should  follow  the 
same  profound  causes.  Hydrochloric  acid  always 
acts  in  the  same  way  upon  carbonate  of  lime — 
whether  in  the  form  of  marble  or  of  chalk — yet 
we  do  not  say  that  the  acid  perceives  in  the  various 
species  the  characteristic  features  of  the  genus. 
Now  there  is  no  essential  difference  between  the 
process  by  which  this  acid  picks  out  from  the 
salt  its  base,  and  the  act  of  the  plant  which 
invariably  extracts  from  the  most  diverse  soils 
those  elements  that  serve  to  nourish  it.  Make 
one  more  step ; imagine  a rudimentary  con- 
sciousness such  as  that  of  an  amoeba  in  a drop 
of  water  : it  will  be  sensible  of  the  resemblance, 
and  not  of  the  difference,  in  the  various  organic 
substances  which  it  can  assimilate.  In  short, 
we  can  follow  from  the  mineral  to  the  plant, 
from  the  plant  to  the  simplest  conscious  beings, 
from  the  animal  to  man,  the  progress  of  the 
operation  by  which  things  and  beings  seize  from 
out  their  surroundings  that  which  attracts  them, 
that  which  interests  them  practically,  without 
needing  any  effort  of  abstraction,  simply  because 
the  rest  of  their  surroundings  takes  no  hold  upon 


20S 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP  III 


them  : this  similarity  of  reaction  following  actions 
superficially  different  is  the  germ  which  the  human 
consciousness  developes  into  general  ideas. 

Consider,  indeed,  the  purpose  and  function 
of  our  nervous  system  as  far  as  we  can  infer 
them  from  its  structure.  We  see  a great 
so  that  the  variety  of  mechanisms  of  perception, 
~iiidea  all  bound,  through  the  intermediary 
i?“isrepre-re  °f  the  centres,  to  the  same  motor 
sented.  apparatus.  Sensation  is  unstable ; it 
can  take  the  most  varied  shades ; the  motor 
mechanism,  on  the  contrary,  once  set  going,  will 
invariably  work  in  the  same  way.  We  may  then 
suppose  perceptions  as  different  as  possible  in 
their  superficial  details  : if  only  they  are  continued 
by  the  same  motor  reactions,  if  the  organism  can 
extract  from  them  the  same  useful  effects,  if  they 
impress  upon  the  body  the  same  attitude,  some- 
thing common  will  issue  from  them,  and  the  general 
idea  will  have  been  felt  and  passively  experienced, 
before  being  represented.— Here  then  we  escape 
at  last  from  the  circle  in  which  we  at  first  appeared 
to  be  confined.  In  order  to  generalize,  we  said, 
we  have  to  abstract  similarity,  but  in  order  to 
disengage  similarity  usefully  we  must  already 
know  how  to  generalize.  There  really  is  no  circle, 
because  the  similarity,  from  which  the  mind  starts 
when  it  first  begins  the  work  of  abstraction,  is 
not  the  similarity  at  which  the  mind  arrives  when 
it  consciously  generalizes.  That  from  which  it 
starts  is  a similarity  felt  and  lived ; or,  if  you  prefer 


CHAP.  III. 


MEMORY  AND  GENERAL  IDEAS 


209 


the  expression,  a similarity  which  is  automatically 
acted.  That  to  which  it  returns  is  a similarity  in- 
telligently perceived,  or  thought.  And  it  is  precisely 
in  the  course  of  this  progress  that  are  built  up, 
by  the  double  effort  of  the  understanding  and  of 
the  memory,  the  perception  of  individuals  and 
the  conception  of  genera, — memory  grafting  dis- 
tinctions upon  resemblances  which  have  been 
spontaneously  abstracted,  the  understanding  dis- 
engaging from  the  habit  of  resemblances  the  clear 
idea  of  generality.  This  idea  of  generality  was, 
in  the  beginning,  only  our  consciousness  of  a likeness 
of  attitude  in  a diversity  of  situations  ; it  was 
habit  itself,  mounting  from  the  sphere  of  move- 
ment to  that  of  thought.  But  from  genera  so 
sketched  out  mechanically  by  habit  we  have 
passed,  by  an  effort  of  reflexion  upon  this  very 
process,  to  the  general  idea  of  genus ; and  when 
that  idea  has  been  once  constituted,  we  have  con- 
structed (this  time  voluntarily)  an  unlimited  num- 
ber of  general  notions.  It  is  not  necessary  here  to 
follow  the  intellect  into  the  detail  of  this  con- 
struction. It  is  enough  to  say  that  the  under- 
standing, imitating  the  effort  of  nature,  has  also 
set  up  motor  apparatuses,  artificial  in  this  case,  to 
make  a limited  number  of  them  answer  to  an  un- 
limited number  of  individual  objects  : the  assem- 
blage of  these  mechanisms  is  articulate  speech. 

Yet  these  two  divergent  operations  of  the  mind, 
the  one  by  which  it  discerns  individuals,  the  other 
by  which  it  constructs  genera,  are  far  from  demand- 


210 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


ing  the  same  effort  or  progressing  with  the  same 
rapidity.  The  first,  requiring  only  the  inter- 
vention of  memory,  takes  place  from  the  outset 
of  our  experience  ; the  second  goes  on  indefinitely 
without  ever  reaching  its  goal.  The  first  issues  in 
the  formation  of  stable  images,  which  in  their  turn 
are  stored  up  in  memory ; the  second  comes  out  in 
representations  that  are  unstable  and  evanescent. 
We  must  dwell  on  this  last  point,  for  we  touch 
here  an  essential  problem  of  mental  fife. 

The  essence  of  the  general  idea,  in  fact,  is  to 
be  unceasingly  going  backwards  and  forwards 
between  the  plane  of  action  and  that  of  pure 
memory.  Let  us  refer  once  more  to  the  dia- 
gram we  traced  above.  At  S is  the  present 
perception  which  I have  of  my  body,  that  is 
to  say,  of  a certain  sensori-motor  equilibrium. 
Over  the  surface  of  the  base  AB  are  spread, 
we  may  say,  my  recollections  in  their  totality. 
Within  the  cone  so  determined  the  general 
idea  oscillates  continually  between  the  summit 
S and  the  base  AB.  In  S it  would  take  the 
clearly  defined  form  of  a bodily  attitude  or  of 
an  uttered  word  ; at  AB  it  would  wear  the  aspect, 
no  less  defined,  of  the  thousand  individual  images 
into  which  its  fragile  unity  would  break 
general6 idea  up.  And  that  is  why  a psychology  which 
movement11  abides  by  the  already  done,  which  con- 
pfaneo* the  siders  only  that  which  is  made  and 
fhat°ofapure  ignores  that  which  is  in  the  making, 
will  never  perceive  in  this  movement 


I 

I 


CHAP.  Ill 


MEMORY  AND  GENERAL  IDEAS 


211 


anything  more  than  the  two  extremities  between 
which  it  oscillates ; it  makes  the  general  idea 
coincide  sometimes  with  the  action  which  mani- 
fests it  or  the  word  which  expresses  it,  and 
at  other  times  with  the  multitudinous  images, 
unlimited  in  number,  which  are  its  equivalent  in 
memory.  But  the  truth  is  that  the  general  idea 
escapes  us  as  soon  as  we  try  to  fix  it  at  either  of 
the  two  extremities.  It  consists  in  the  double 
current  which  goes  from  the  one  to  the  other, — 
always  ready  either  to  crystallize  into  uttered 
words  or  to  evaporate  into  memories. 

This  amounts  to  saying  that  between  the 
sensori-motor  mechanisms  figured  by  the  point 
S and  the  totality  of  the  memories  disposed  in 
AB  there  is  room,  as  we  indicated  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  for  a thou- 
sand repetitions  of  our 
psychical  life,  figured 
by  as  many  sections 
A'B',  A"B",  etc.,  of  the 
same  cone.  We  tend 
to  scatter  ourselves 
over  AB  in  the  measure 
that  we  detach  our- 
selves from  our  seftsory 
and  motor  state  to  live 
in  the  life  of  dreams  ; 
we  tend  to  concentrate 
ourselves  in  S in  the  measure  that  we  attach 
ourselves  more  firmly  to  the  present  reality, 


212 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


responding  by  motor  reactions  to  sensory  stimula- 
tion. In  point  of  fact,  the  normal  self  never  stays 
in  either  of  these  extreme  positions  ; it  moves 
between  them,  adopts  in  turn  the  positions  corre- 
sponding to  the  intermediate  sections,  or,  in  other 
words,  gives  to  its  representations  just  enough 
image  and  just  enough  idea  for  them  to  be  able 
to  lend  useful  aid  to  the  present  action. 

From  this  conception  of  the  lower  mental  life 
the  laws  of  the  association  of  ideas  can  be  deduced. 
But,  before  we  deal  with  this  point,  we  must  first 
show  the  insufficiency  of  the  current  theories  of 
association. 

That  every  idea  which  arises  in  the  mind  has 
a relation  of  similarity  or  of  contiguity  with 
But  associa-  t^ie  previous  mental  state,  we  do  not 
inmissmTthe  dispute ; but  a statement  of  the  kind 
between*11  throws  no  light  on  the  mechanism  of  as- 
and3  our638  sociation  ; nor,  indeed,  does  it  really  tell 
actual  needs.  us  anything  at  all.  For  we  should  seek 
in  vain  for  two  ideas  which  have  not  some  point 
of  resemblance,  or  which  do  not  touch  each  other 
somewhere.  To  take  similarity  first : however 
profound  are  the  differences  which  separate  two 
images,  we  shall  always  find,  if  we  go  back  high 
enough,  a common  genus  to  which  they  belong,  and 
consequently  a resemblance  which  may  serve  as  a 
connecting  link  between  them.  And,  in  regard  to 
contiguity,  a perception  A,  as  we  said  before,  will 
not  evoke  ‘ by  contiguity ' a former  image  B,  unless 


CHAP.  Ill 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS 


213 


it  recalls  to  us  first  an  image  A'  which  is  like  it, 
because  it  is  the  recollection  A',  and  not  the 
perception  A,  which  really  touches  B in  memory. 
However  distant,  then,  we  suppose  the  terms  A 
and  B from  each  other,  a relation  of  contiguity 
can  always  be  found  between  them,  provided  that 
the  intercalated  term  A'  bears  a sufficiently  far- 
fetched resemblance  to  A.  This  is  as  much  as  to 
say  that  between  any  two  ideas  chosen  at  random 
there  is  always  a resemblance,  and  always,  even, 
contiguity  ; so  that,  when  we  discover  a relation 
of  contiguity  or  of  resemblance  between  two  suc- 
cessive ideas,  we  have  in  no  way  explained  why 
the  one  evokes  the  other. 

What  we  really  need  to  discover  is  how  a choice 
is  effected  among  an  infinite  number  of  recollec- 
tions which  all  resemble  in  some  way  the  present 
perception,  and  why  only  one  of  them, — this  rather 
than  that, — emerges  into  the  light  of  consciousness. 
But  this  is  just  what  associationism  cannot  tell 
us,  because  it  has  made  ideas  and  images  into 
independent  entities  floating,  like  the  atoms  of 
Epicurus,  in  an  inward  space,  drawing  near  to 
each  other  and  catching  hold  of  each  other  when 
chance  brings  them  within  the  sphere  of  mutual 
attraction.  And  if  we  try  to  get  to  the  bottom 
of  the  doctrine  on  this  point,  we  find  that  its 
error  is  that  it  intellectualizes  ideas  over  much: 
it  attributes  to  them  a purely  speculative  role, 
believes  that  they  exist  for  themselves  and  not 
for  us,  and  overlooks  the  relation  which  they 


214 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


bear  to  the  activity  of  the  will.  If  memories 
move  about,  indifferent,  in  a consciousness  that  is 
both  lifeless  and  shapeless,  there  is  no  reason  why 
the  present  perception  should  prefer  and  attract 
any  one  of  them  : we  can  only,  in  that  case, 

note  the  conjunction  when  once  it  has  taken 
place  and  speak  of  similarity  or  of  contiguity, — 
which  is  merely,  at  bottom,  to  express  in  vague 
terms  that  our  mental  states  have  affinities  for 
one  another. 

But  even  of  this  affinity,  which  takes  the  double 
form  of  contiguity  and  of  similarity,  associationism 
can  furnish  no  explanation.  The  general  ten- 
dency to  associate  remains  as  obscure  for  us,  if  we 
adhere  to  this  doctrine,  as  the  particular  forms  of 
association.  Having  stiffened  individual  memory- 
images  into  ready-made  things,  given  cut  and 
dry  in  the  course  of  our  mental  life,  associa- 
tionism is  reduced  to  bringing  in,  between  these 
objects,  mysterious  attractions  of  which  it  is  not 
even  possible  to  say  beforehand,  as  of  physical 
attraction,  by  what  effects  they  will  manifest 
themselves.  For  why  should  an  image  which  is, 
by  hypothesis,  self-sufficient,  seek  to  accrue  to 
itself  others  either  similar  or  given  in  contiguity 
with  it  ? The  truth  is  that  this  independent 
image  is  a late  and  artificial  product  of  the  mind- 
In  fact,  we  perceive  the  resemblance  before  we  per- 
ceive the  individuals  which  resemble  each  other  ; 
and,  in  an  aggregate  of  contiguous  parts,  we  per- 
ceive the  whole  before  the  parts.  We  go  on  from 


CHAP.  Ill 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS 


215 


similarity  to  similar  objects,  embroidering  upon 
the  similarity,  as  on  their  common  stuff  or  canvas, 
the  variety  of  individual  differences.  And  we 
go  on  also  from  the  whole  to  the  parts,  by  a process 
of  decomposition  the  law  of  which  will  appear 
later,  a process  which  consists  in  breaking  up, 
for  the  greater  convenience  of  practical  life, 
the  continuity  of  the  real.  Association,  then, 
is  not  the  primary  fact  : dissociation  is  what 
we  begin  with,  and  the  tendency  of  every  mem- 
ory to  gather  to  itself  others  must  be  explained 
by  the  natural  return  of  the  mind  to  the  undivided 
unity  of  perception. 

But  here  we  discover  the  radical  vice  of  associa- 
tionism.  Given  a present  perception  which  forms 
•Similarity’  by  turns,  with  different  recollections, 
grity’°donot  several  associations  one  after  another, 
anything{°un-  there  are  two  ways,  as  we  said,  of  con- 
themseivea8re  ceiying  the  mechanism  of  this  associa- 
accounted  for.  tion.  We  may  suppose  that  the  percep- 
tion remains  identical  with  itself,  a true  psychical 
atom  which  gathers  to  itself  others  just  as  these 
happen  to  be  passing  by.  This  is  the  point  of 
view  of  associationism.  But  there  is  also  another, 
— precisely  the  one  which  we  have  indicated  in 
our  theory  of  recognition.  We  have  supposed 
that  our  entire  personality,  with  the  totality  of 
our  recollections,  is  present,  undivided  within  our 
actual  perception.  Then,  if  this  perception  evokes 
in  turn  different  memories,  it  is  not  by  a mechan- 
ical adjunction  of  more  and  more  numerous 


2l6 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


elements  which,  while  it  remains  itself  unmoved, 
it  attracts  around  it,  but  rather  by  an  expansion 
of  the  entire  consciousness  which,  spreading  out 
over  a larger  area,  discovers  the  fuller  detail  of 
its  wealth.  So  a nebulous  mass,  seen  through 
more  and  more  powerful  telescopes,  resolves  itself 
into  an  ever  greater  number  of  stars.  On  the 
first  hypothesis  (in  favour  of  which  there  is  little 
but  its  apparent  simplicity  and  its  analogy 
with  a misunderstood  physical  atomism),  each 
recollection  is  a fixed  and  independent  being, 
of  which  we  can  neither  say  why  it  seeks  to 
accrue  to  itself  others,  nor  how  it  chooses,  among 
a thousand  memories  which  should  have  equal 
rights,  those  with  which  to  associate  itself  in 
virtue  of  similarity  or  contiguity.  We  must 
suppose  that  ideas  jostle  each  other  at  random, 
or  that  they  exert  among  themselves  mysterious 
forces,  and  moreover  we  have  against  us  the 
witness  of  consciousness,  which  never  shows  us 
psychical  facts  floating  as  independent  entities. 
From  the  second  point  of  view,  we  merely  state  a 
fact,  viz.  that  psychic  facts  are  bound  up  with 
each  other,  and  are  always  given  together  to 
immediate  consciousness  as  an  undivided  whole 
which  reflexion  alone  cuts  up  into  distinct  frag- 
ments. What  we  have  to  explain,  then,  is  no 
longer  the  cohesion  of  internal  states,  but  the 
double  movement  of  contraction  and  expansion 
by  which  consciousness  narrows  or  enlarges 
the  development  of  its  content.  But  this  move- 


chap,  hi  THE  PLANES  OF  DREAM  AND  ACTION  21J 


ment,  we  shall  see,  is  the  result  of  the  fun- 
damental needs  of  life ; and  we  shall  also 
see  why  the  ‘ associations,’  which  we  appear 
to  form  in  the  course  of  this  movement,  corre- 
spond to  all  the  possible  degrees  of  so-called  con- 
tiguity and  resemblance. 

Let  us,  for  a moment,  suppose  our  psychical 
life  reduced  to  sensori-motor  functions  alone. 
They  should  °ther  words,  suppose  ourselves  placed 
ftMt°on  th^’  in  fhe  diagrammatic  figure  on  page  21 1 
actton,0 where  at  *he  points,  which  corresponds  to  the 
they  coincide ; greatest  possible  simplification  of  our 

mental  life.  In  this  state  every  perception 
spontaneously  prolongs  itself  into  appropriate 
reactions ; for  analogous  former  perceptions 
have  set  up  more  or  less  complex  motor 
apparatus,  which  only  await  a recurrence  of 
the  same  appeal  in  order  to  enter  into  play. 
Now  there  is,  in  this  mechanism,  an  associa- 
tion of  similarity,  since  the  present  perception 
acts  in  virtue  of  its  likeness  to  past  perceptions  ; 
and  there  is  also  an  association  of  contiguity, 
since  the  movements  which  followed  those 
former  perceptions  reproduce  themselves,  and 
may  even  bring  in  their  train  a vast  num- 
ber of  actions  co-ordinate  with  the  first.  Here 
then  we  seize  association  of  similarity  and 
association  of  contiguity  at  their  very  source, 
and  at  a point  where  they  are  almost  confounded 
in  one — not  indeed  thought,  but  acted  and  lived. 
They  are  not  contingent  forms  of  our  psychical 


2l8 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


life ; they  represent  the  two  complementary 
aspects  of  one  and  the  same  fundamental  tendency,  ! 
the  tendency  of  every  organism  to  extract  from 
a given  situation  that  in  it  which  is  useful,  and  to 
store  up  the  eventual  reaction  in  the  form  of  a 
motor  habit,  that  it  may  serve  other  situations 
of  the  same  kind. 

Let  us  jump  now  to  the  other  extremity  of 
our  mental  life,  and,  following  our  line  of  thought, 
go  from  the  psychical  existence  which 
rathfpiane7’  *s  merely  ‘ acted,’  to  that  which  is  ex- 
whereathey  clusively  ‘ dreamed.’  In  other  words, 
diFffereSely  let  us  place  ourselves  on  the  base 
AB  of  memory  (page  211)  where  all  the 
events  of  our  past  life  are  set  out  in  their  small- 
est details.  A consciousness  which,  detached  from 
action,  should  thus  keep  in  view  the  totality  of 
its  past,  would  have  no  reason  to  dwell  upon  one 
part  of  this  past  rather  than  upon  another.  In 
one  sense,  all  its  recollections  would  differ  from 
its  present  perception,  for,  if  we  take  them  with 
the  multiplicity  of  their  detail,  no  two  memories 
are  ever  precisely  the  same  thing.  But,  in  another 
sense,  any  memory  may  be  set  alongside  the  pre- 
sent situation  : it  would  be  sufficient  to  neglect  in 
this  perception  and  in  this  memory  just  enough 
detail  for  similarity  alone  to  appear.  Moreover, 
the  moment  that  the  recollection  is  linked  with 
the  perception,  a multitude  of  events  contig- 
uous to  the  memory  are  thereby  fastened  to  the 
perception — an  indefinite  multitude,  which  is  only 


chap,  ni  THE  PLANES  OF  DREAM  AND  ACTION  2ig 


limited  at  the  point  at  which  we  choose  to  stop 
it.  The  necessities  of  life  are  no  longer  there 
to  regulate  the  effect  of  similarity,  and  conse- 
quently of  contiguity ; and  as,  after  all,  everything 
resembles  everything  else,  it  follows  that  any- 
thing can  be  associated  with  anything.  In  the 
first  case  the  present  perception  continued  itself 
in  determinate  movements  ; now  it  melts  into 
an  infinity  of  memories,  all  equally  possible. 
At  AB  association  would  provoke  an  arbitrary 
choice,  and  in  S an  inevitable  deed. 

But  these  are  only  two  extreme  limits,  at 
which  the  psychologist  must  place  himself  alter- 
nately for  convenience  of  study,  and 

Now  normal  . . , ,,  , . . 

psychical  which  are  really  never  reached  in  prac- 

HI0  oscillates  • • 

between  these  tice.  There  is  not,  in  man  at  least,  a 

two  extremes,  , . , . . 

according  to  purely  senson-motor  state,  any  more 
tension  in  than  there  is  in  him  an  imaginative 
life  without  some  slight  activity  be- 
neath it.  Our  psychical  life,  as  we  have  said, 
oscillates  normally  between  these  two  extremes. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  sensori-motor  state  S marks 
out  the  present  direction  of  memory,  being  no- 
thing else,  in  fact,  than  its  actual  and  acting 
extremity  ; and  on  the  other  hand  this  memory 
itself,  with  the  totality  of  our  past,  is  continually 
pressing  forward,  so  as  to  insert  the  largest 
possible  part  of  itself  into  the  present  action. 
From  this  double  effort  result,  at  every  mo- 
ment, an  infinite  number  of  possible  states 
of  memory,  states  figured  by  the  sections 


220 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


A'B',  A"B"  of  our  diagram.  These  are,  as  we 
have  said,  so  many  repetitions  of  the  whole 
of  our  past  life.  But  each  section  is  larger  or 
smaller  according  to  its  nearness  to  the  base  or 
to  the  summit ; and  moreover  each  of  these 
complete  representations  of  the  past  brings  to 
the  light  of  consciousness  only  that  which  can 
fit  into  the  sensori-motor  state,  and  consequently 
that  which  resembles  the  present  perception 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  action  to  be  accom- 
plished. In  other  words,  memory,  laden  with 
the  whole  of  the  past,  responds  to  the  appeal 
of  the  present  state  by  two  simultaneous  move- 
ments, one  of  translation,  by  which  it  moves 
in  its  entirety  to  meet  experience,  thus  contracting 
more  or  less,  though  without  dividing,  with  a 
view  to  action  ; the  other  of  rotation  upon  itself, 
by  which  it  turns  towards  the  situation  of  the 
moment,  presenting  to  it  that  side  of  itself  which 
may  prove  to  be  the  most  useful.  To  these 

varying  degrees  of  contraction  correspond  the 

various  forms  of  association  by  similarity. 

Everything  happens,  then,  as  though  oui 
recollections  were  repeated  an  infinite  number 
Associations  of  times  in  these  many  possible  reduc- 

of  similarity  . , ... 

are  more  tions  of  our  past  life.  They  take  a 
general  when 

memory  is  more  common  form  when  memory 

near  the  plane  , . , , , , ., 

ot action,  more  shrinks  most,  more  personal  when  it 
^withdraws  widens  out,  and  they  thus  enter  into 
plane  os  dream,  an  unlimited  number  of  different  ‘sys- 
tematizations.’ A word  from  a foreign  language, 


chap,  m DIFFERENT  PLANES  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS  221 


uttered  in  my  hearing,  may  make  me  think  of 
that  language  in  general  or  of  a voice  which  once 
pronounced  it  in  a certain  way.  These  two 
associations  by  similarity  are  not  due  to  the 
accidental  arrival  of  two  different  representations, 
which  chance  brought  by  turns  within  the  attract- 
ing influence  of  the  actual  perception.  They 
answer  to  two  different  mental  dispositions,  to 
two  distinct  degrees  of  tension  of  the  memory; 
in  the  latter  case  nearer  to  the  pure  image,  in 
the  former  more  disposed  towards  immediate 
response,  that  is  to  say,  to  action.  To  classify 
these  systems,  to  discover  the  law  which  binds 
them  respectively  to  the  different  ‘ tones  ’ of 
our  mental  life,  to  show  how  each  of  these  tones 
is  itself  determined  by  the  needs  of  the  moment 
and  also  by  the  varying  degree  of  our  personal 
effort,  would  be  a difficult  task  : the  whole  of 
this  psychology  is  yet  to  do,  and  for  the  moment 
we  do  not  even  wish  to  attempt  it.  But  every 
one  is  clearly  aware  of  the  existence  of  these  laws, 
and  of  stable  relations  of  this  kind.  We  know,  for 
instance,  when  we  read  a psychological  novel, 
that  certain  associations  of  ideas  there  depicted 
for  us  are  true,  that  they  may  have  been  lived  ; 
others  offend  us,  or  fail  to  give  us  an  impression 
of  reality,  because  we  feel  in  them  the  effect  of 
a connexion,  mechanically  and  artificially  brought 
about,  between  different  mental  levels,  as  though 
the  author  had  not  taken  care  to  maintain  him- 
self on  that  plane  of  the  mental  life  which  he 


222 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


had  chosen.  Memory  has  then  its  successive 
and  distinct  degrees  of  tension  or  of  vitality: 
they  are  certainly  not  easy  to  define,  but  the 
painter  of  mental  scenery  may  not  with  impunity 
confound  them.  Pathology,  moreover,  here  con- 
firms—by  means,  it  is  true,  of  coarser  examples 
— a truth  of  which  we  are  all  instinctively 
aware.  In  the  ‘ systematized  amnesias  ’ of  hyster- 
ical patients,  for  example,  the  recollections  which 
appear  to  be  abolished  are  really  present ; but 
they  are  probably  all  bound  up  with  a certain 
determined  tone  of  intellectual  vitality  in  which 
the  subject  can  no  longer  place  himself. 

Just  as  there  are  these  different  planes,  infinite 
in  number,  for  association  by  similarity,  so  there 

are  with  association  by  contiguity.  In 
planes  that°us  the  extreme  plane,  which  represents 
diatebetween  the  hase  °f  memory,  there  is  no  recol- 
the  two  ex-  lection  which  is  not  linked  by  contiguity 

tremes,  the  # # J . ° J 

same  memo-  with  the  totality  of  the  events  which  pre- 

nes  are  sys-  J r 

tematized  in  cede  and  also  with  those  which  follow 
diverse  ways. 

it.  Whereas,  at  the  point  in  space  where 
our  action  is  concentrated,  contiguity  brings  back, 
in  the  form  of  movement,  only  the  reaction  which 
immediately  followed  a former  similar  perception. 
As  a matter  of  fact,  every  association  by  conti- 
guity implies  a position  of  the  mind  intermediate 
between  the  two  extreme  limits.  If,  here  again,  we 
imagine  a number  of  possible  repetitions  of  the  total- 
ity of  our  memories,  each  of  these  copies  of  our 
past  life  must  be  supposed  to  be  cut  up,  in  its  own 


chap,  hi  DIFFERENT  PLANES  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS  223 

way,  into  definite  parts,  and  the  cutting  up  is 
not  the  same  when  we  pass  from  one  copy  to 
another,  each  of  them  being  in  fact  character- 
ized by  the  particular  kind  of  dominant  mem- 
ories on  which  the  other  memories  lean  as 
on  supporting  points.  The  nearer  we  come  to 
action,  for  instance,  the  more  contiguity  tends 
to  approximate  to  similarity  and  to  be  thus  dis- 
tinguished from  a mere  relation  of  chronological 
succession  : thus  we  cannot  say  of  the  words 

of  a foreign  language,  when  they  call  each  other 
up  in  memory,  whether  they  are  associated  by 
similarity  or  by  contiguity.  On  the  contrary, 
the  more  we  detach  ourselves  from  action,  real  or 
possible,  the  more  association  by  contiguity  tends 
merely  to  reproduce  the  consecutive  images 
of  our  past  life.  It  is  impossible  to  enter 
here  into  a profound  study  of  these  different 
systems.  It  is  sufficient  to  point  out  that  these 
systems  are  not  formed  of  recollections  laid  side 
by  side  like  so  many  atoms.  There  are  always 
some  dominant  memories,  shining  points  round 
which  the  others  form  a vague  nebulosity.  These 
shining  points  are  multiplied  in  the  degree  in 
which  our  memory  expands.  The  process  of  local- 
izing a recollection  in  the  past,  for  instance,  can- 
not at  all  consist,  as  has  been  said,  in  plunging 
into  the  mass  of  our  memories  as  into  a bag,  to 
draw  out  memories,  closer  and  closer  to  each 
other,  between  which  the  memory  to  be  localized 
may  find  its  place.  By  what  happy  chance 


224 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


could  we  just  hit  upon  on  a growing  number  of 
intercalary  recollections  ? The  work  of  localiza- 
tion consists,  in  reality,  in  a growing  effort  of  ex- 
pansion, by  which  the  memory,  always  present  in 
its  entirety  to  itself,  spreads  out  its  recollections 
over  an  ever  wider  surface  and  so  ends  by  dis- 
tinguishing, in  what  was  till  then  a confused  mass, 
the  remembrance  which  could  not  find  its  proper 
place.  Here  again,  moreover,  the  pathology  of 
memory  is  instructive.  In  retrogressive  amnesia, 
the  recollections  which  disappear  from  conscious- 
ness are  probably  preserved  in  remote  planes 
of  memory,  and  the  patient  can  find  them  there 
b}^  an  exceptional  effort  like  that  which  is  effected 
in  the  hypnotic  state.  But  on  the  lower  planes 
these  memories  await,  so  to  speak,  the  dominant 
image  to  which  they  may  be  fastened.  A sharp 
shock,  a violent  emotion,  forms  the  decisive 
event  to  which  they  cling  ; and  if  this  event,  by 
reason  of  its  sudden  character,  is  cut  off  from 
the  rest  of  our  history,  they  follow  it  into 
oblivion.  We  can  understand,  then,  that  the 
oblivion  which  follows  a physical  or  moral  shock 
should  include  the  events  which  immediately 
preceded  it — a phenomenon  which  is  very  difficult 
to  explain  in  all  other  conceptions  of  memory. 
Let  us  remark  in  passing  that  if  we  refuse  to 
attribute  some  such  waiting  to  recent,  and  even  to 
relatively  distant,  recollections,  the  normal  work 
of  memory  becomes  unintelligible.  For  every 
event  of  which  the  recollection  is  now  imprinted 


CHAP.  Ill 


ATTENTION  TO  LIFE 


225 


on  the  memory,  however  simple  we  suppose  it 
to  be,  has  occupied  a certain  time.  The  percep- 
tions which  filled  the  first  period  of  this  interval, 
and  now  form  with  the  later  perceptions  an 
undivided  memory,  were  then  really  * loose  ’ as 
long  as  the  decisive  part  of  the  event  had  not 
occurred  and  drawn  them  along.  Between  the 
disappearance  of  a memory  with  its  various  pre- 
liminary details,  and  the  abolition,  in  retrogres- 
sive amnesia,  of  a greater  or  less  number  of  recol- 
lections previous  to  a given  event,  there  is,  then, 
merely  a difference  of  degree  and  not  of  kind. 

From  these  various  considerations  on  the  lower 
mental  life  results  a certain  view  of  intellectual 
since  the  equilibrium.  This  equilibrium  will  be 

uonsourdi’  uPset  only  by  a perturbation  of  the 
ffienthennor-  elements  which  serve  as  its  matter. 
Semind  °f  We  cann°t  here  go  into  questions  of 
“nthedepend  meirtal  pathology  ; yet  neither  can  we 
the°sensori»*  avoid  them  entirely,  since  we  are 
motor  system,  endeavouring  to  discover  the  exact 
relation  between  body  and  mind. 

We  have  supposed  that  the  mind  travels  unceas- 
ingly over  the  interval  comprised  between  its  two 
extreme  limits,  the  plane  of  action  and  the  plane  of 
dream.  Let  us  suppose  that  we  have  to  make  a 
decision.  Collecting,  organizing  the  totality  of  its 
experience  in  what  we  call  its  character,  the  mind 
causes  it  to  converge  upon  actions  in  which  we 
shall  afterwards  find,  together  with  the  past 


226 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP,  III 


which  is  their  matter,  the  unforeseen  form  which  is 
stamped  upon  them  by  personality ; but  the  action 
is  not  able  to  become  real  unless  it  succeeds  in 
encasing  itself  in  the  actual  situation,  that  is  to 
say,  in  that  particular  assemblage  of  circumstances 
which  is  due  to  the  particular  position  of  the  body 
in  time  and  space.  Let  us  suppose,  now,  that  we 
have  to  do  a piece  of  intellectual  work,  to  form 
a conception,  to  extract  a more  or  less  general 
idea  from  the  multiplicity  of  our  recollections. 
A wide  margin  is  left  to  fancy  on  the  one  hand, 
to  logical  discernment  on  the  other ; but,  if  the 
idea  is  to  live,  it  must  touch  present  reality  on 
some  side;  that  is  to  say,  it  must  be  able,  from 
step  to  step,  and  by  progressive  diminutions  or 
contractions  of  itself,  to  be  more  or  less  acted 
by  the  body  at  the  same  time  as  it  is  thought 
by  the  mind.  Our  body,  with  the  sensations 
which  it  receives  on  the  one  hand  and  the 
movements  which  it  is  capable  of  executing  on 
the  other,  is,  then,  that  which  fixes  our  mind, 
and  gives  it  ballast  and  poise.  The  activity  of 
the  mind  goes  far  beyond  the  mass  of  accumulated 
memories,  as  this  mass  of  memories  itself  is 
infinitely  more  than  the  sensations  and  move- 
ments of  the  present  hour  ; but  these  sensations 
and  these  movements  condition  what  we  may 
term  our  attention  to  life,  and  that  is  why  every- 
thing depends  on  their  cohesion  in  the  normal 
work  of  the  mind,  as  in  a pyramid  which  should 
stand  upon  its  apex. 


CHAP.  Ill 


MENTAL  EQUILIBRIUM 


227 


If,  moreover,  we  cast  a glance  at  the  minute 
structure  of  the  nervous  system  as  recent  dis- 
coveries have  revealed  it  to  us,  we  see  every- 
where conducting  lines,  nowhere  any  centres. 
Threads  placed  end  to  end,  of  which  the 
extremities  probably  touch  when  the  current 
passes : this  is  all  that  is  seen.  And  perhaps 
this  is  all  there  is,  if  it  be  true  that  the  body  is 
only  a place  of  meeting  and  transfer,  where  stimula- 
tions received  result  in  movements  accomplished,  as 
we  have  supposed  it  to  be  throughout  this  work. 
But  these  threads  which  receive  disturbances  or 
stimulations  from  the  external  world  and  return 
them  to  it  in  the  form  of  appropriate  reactions, 
these  threads  so  beautifully  stretched  from  the 
periphery  to  the  periphery,  are  just  what  ensure 
by  the  solidity  of  their  connexions  and  the 
precision  of  their  interweaving  the  sensori- 
motor equilibrium  of  the  body,  that  is  to  say 
its  adaptation  to  the  present  circumstances. 
Relax  this  tension  or  destroy  this  equilibrium : 
everything  happens  as  if  attention  detached 
itself  from  life.  Dreams  and  insanity  appear  to 
be  little  else  than  this. 

Sleep  and  We  were  speaking  just  now  of  the 
toehmemo’ry  recent  hypothesis  which  attributes 
tion  irom'the  sleep  to  an  interruption  of  the  soli- 
motcMunc-  darity  among  the  neurons.  Even  if 
which*  they  we  do  n°f  accept  this  hypothesis 
present^0  (which  is,  however,  confirmed  by  some 
reality,  curious  experiments)  we  must  suppose, 


228 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  Ill 


in  deep  sleep,  at  least  a functional  break  in  the 
relation  established  in  the  nervous  system  be- 
tween stimulation  and  motor  reaction.  So  that 
dreams  would  always  be  the  state  of  a mind 
of  which  the  attention  was  not  fixed  by  the 
sensori-motor  equilibrium  of  the  body.  And  it 
appears  more  and  more  probable  that  this  re- 
laxing of  tension  in  the  nervous  system  is  due 
to  the  poisoning  of  its  elements  by  products  of 
their  normal  activity  accumulated  in  the  waking 
state.  Now,  in  every  way  dreams  imitate  insanity. 
Not  only  are  all  the  psychological  symptoms  of 
madness  found  in  dreams — to  such  a degree  that 
the  comparison  of  the  two  states  has  become 
a commonplace  — but  insanity  appears  also  to 
have  its  origin  in  an  exhaustion  of  the  brain, 
which  is  caused,  like  normal  fatigue,  by  the 
accumulation  of  certain  specific  poisons  in  the 
elements  of  the  nervous  system.1  We  know  that 
insanity  is  often  a sequel  to  infectious  diseases, 
and  that,  moreover,  it  is  possible  to  reproduce 
experimentally,  by  toxic  drugs,  all  the  phenomena 
of  madness.2  Is  it  not  likely,  therefore,  that  the 
loss  of  mental  equilibrium  in  the  insane  is  simply 
the  result  of  a disturbance  of  the  sensori-motor 
relations  established  in  the  organism  ? This 

1 This  idea  has  recently  been  developed  by  various  authors. 
A systematic  account  of  it  will  be  found  in  the  work  of  Cowles, 
The  Mechanism  of  Insanity  ( American  Journal  of  Insanity, 
1890-1891). 

2 See,  in  especial,  Moreau  de  Tours,  Du  haschisch.  Paris, 

1845- 


CHAP.  Ill 


MENTAL  EQUILIBRIUM 


229 


disturbance  may  be  enough  to  create  a sort  of 
psychic  vertigo,  and  so  cause  memory  and  atten- 
tion to  lose  contact  with  reality.  If  we  read  the 
descriptions  given  by  some  mad  patients  of  the 
beginning  of  their  malady,  we  find  that  they  often 
feel  a sensation  of  strangeness,  or,  as  they  say, 
of  ' unreality/  as  if  the  things  they  perceived 
had  for  them  lost  solidity  and  relief.1  If  our 
analyses  are  correct,  the  concrete  feeling  that 
we  have  of  present  reality  consists,  in  fact,  of 
our  consciousness  of  the  actual  movements  where- 
by our  organism  is  naturally  responding  to  stimu- 
lation ; so  that  where  the  connecting  links  be- 
tween sensations  and  movements  are  slackened 
or  tangled,  the  sense  of  the  real  grows  weaker 
or  disappears.2 

There  are  here,  moreover,  many  distinctions 
to  be  made,  not  only  between  the  various  forms 
of  insanity,  but  also  between  insanity  properly 
so-called  and  that  division  of  the  personality 
which  recent  psychology  has  so  ingeniously  com- 
pared with  it.3  In  these  diseases  of  personality  it 
seems  that  groups  of  recollections  detach  themselves 
from  the  central  memory  and  forego  their  solid- 
arity with  the  others.  But,  then,  it  seldom  occurs 
that  the  patient  does  not  also  display  accompany- 

1 Ball,  Legons  sur  les  maladies  mentales.  Paris,  1890,  p.  608 
et  seq. — Cf.  a curious  analysis  : Visions,  a Personal  Narrative, 
Journal  of  Mental  Science  (1896,  p.  284). 

2 See  above,  p.  176. 

3 Pierre  Janet,  Les  accidents  mentaux.  Paris,  1894,  p.  292 
et  seq. 


230 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap,  in 


ing  scissions  of  sensibility  and  of  motor  activity.1 
We  cannot  help  seeing  in  these  latter  phenomena 
the  real  material  substratum  of  the  former.  If 
it  be  true  that  our  intellectual  life  rests,  as  a whole, 
upon  its  apex,  that  is  to  say  upon  the  sensori-motor 
functions  by  which  it  inserts  itself  into  present 
reality,  intellectual  equilibrium  will  be  differently 
affected  as  these  functions  are  damaged  in  one 
manner  or  in  another.  Now,  besides  the  lesions 
which  affect  the  general  vitality  of  the  sensori- 
motor functions,  weakening  or  destroying  what 
we  have  called  the  sense  of  reality,  there  are  others 
which  reveal  themselves  in  a mechanical,  not  a 
dynamical,  diminution  of  these  functions,  as  if 
certain  sensori-motor  connexions  merely  parted 
company  with  the  rest.  If  we  are  right  in  our 
hypothesis,  memory  is  very  differently  affected 
in  the  two  cases.  In  the  first,  no  recollection  is 
taken  away,  but  all  recollections  are  less  ballasted, 
less  solidly  directed  towards  the  real  ; whence 
arises  a true  disturbance  of  the  mental  equili- 
brium. In  the  second,  the  equilibrium  is  not 
destroyed,  but  it  loses  something  of  its  com- 
plexity. Recollections  retain  their  normal  as- 
pect, but  forego  a part  of  their  solidarity,  because 
their  sensori-motor  base,  instead  of  being,  so 
to  speak,  chemically  changed,  is  mechanically 
diminished.  But  neither  in  the  one  case  nor  in 
the  other  are  memories  directly  attacked  or 
damaged. 

1 Pierre  Janet,  L’ automaiisme  psychologique.  Paris,  1898, 
p.  95  et  seq. 


CHAP.  Ill 


THE  OFFICE  OF  THE  BODY 


231 


The  idea  that  the  body  preserves  memories  in 
the  mechanical  form  of  cerebral  deposits,  that  the 
loss  or  decrease  of  memory  consists  in 
brain  affect  the  their  more  or  less  complete  destruction, 
gations  through  that  the  heightening  of  memory  and  hal- 

which  memo-  ....  . , , , 

ries  are  actual-  lucmation  consists,  on  the  contrary,  m 
sensori-motor  an  excess  of  their  activity,  is  not,  then, 
which  condi-  borne  out  either  by  reasoning  or  by  facts, 
‘attention  The  truth  is  that  there  is  one  case,  and 

to  life.’  They  , , . , , ,, 

cannot  destroy  one  only,  m which  observation  would 
seem  at  first  to  suggest  this  view  : we 
mean  aphasia,  or,  more  generally,  the  disturb- 
ance of  auditory  or  visual  recognition.  This  is 
the  only  case  in  which  the  constant  seat  of  the 
disorder  is  in  a determined  convolution  of  the 
brain  ; but  it  is  also  precisely  the  case  in  which 
we  do  not  find  a mechanical,  immediate  and 
final  destruction  of  certain  definite  recollections, 
but  rather  the  gradual  and  functional  weakening  of 
the  whole  of  the  affected  memory.  And  we  have 
explained  how  the  cerebral  lesion  may  effect  this 
weakening,  without  the  necessity  of  supposing  any 
sort  of  provision  of  memories  stored  in  the  brain. 
What  the  injury  really  attacks  are  the  sensory  and 
motor  regions  corresponding  to  this  class  of  percep- 
tion, and  especially  those  adjuncts  through  which 
they  may  be  set  in  motion  from  within  ; so  that 
memory,  finding  nothing  to  catch  hold  of,  ends  by 
becoming  practically  powerless:  now,  in  psychology, 
powerlessness  means  unconsciousness.  In  all  other 
cases,  the  lesion  observed  or  supposed,  never  defi- 


232 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  II! 


nitely  localized,  acts  by  the  disturbance  which  it 
causes  to  the  whole  of  the  sensori-motor  con- 
nexions, either  by  damaging  or  by  breaking  up 
this  mass  : whence  results  a breach  or  a simplifying 
of  the  intellectual  equilibrium,  and,  by  ricochet, 
the  disorder  or  the  disjunction  of  memory.  The 
doctrine  which  makes  of  memory  an  immediate 
function  of  the  brain — a doctrine  which  raises 
insoluble  theoretical  difficulties — a doctrine  the 
complexity  of  which  defies  all  imagination,  and  the 
results  of  which  are  incompatible  with  the  data 
of  introspection — cannot  even  count  upon  the  sup- 
port of  cerebral  pathology.  All  the  facts  and  all 
the  analogies  are  in  favour  of  a theory  which 
regards  the  brain  as  only  an  intermediary  between 
sensation  and  movement,  which  sees  in  this 
aggregate  of  sensations  and  movements  the  pointed 
end  of  mental  life — a point  ever  pressed  forward 
into  the  tissue  of  events,  and,  attributing  thus  to  the 
body  the  sole  function  of  directing  memory  to- 
wards the  real  and  of  binding  it  to  the  present, 
considers  memory  itself  as  absolutely  independent 
of  matter.  In  this  sense,  the  brain  contributes  to 
the  recall  of  the  useful  recollection,  but  still  more 
to  the  provisional  banishment  of  all  the  others. 
We  cannot  see  how  memory  could  settle  within 
matter ; but  we  do  clearly  understand  how — 
according  to  the  profound  saying  of  a contempor- 
ary philosopher — materiality  begets  oblivion  1 

1 Ravaisson,  La  philosophic  cn  France  au  xix"  silcle,  3rd 
edit.,  p.  176. 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  DELIMITING  AND  FIXING  OF  IMAGES, 
PERCEPTION  AND  MATTER.  SOUL  AND  BODY. 

One  general  conclusion  follows  from  the  first 
three  chapters  of  this  book  : it  is  that  the  body, 
always  turned  towards  action,  has  for  its 
menteAaw  essential  function  to  limit,  with  a view 
caiPii*e  fa"  t°  action,  the  life  of  the  spirit.  In  regard 
tion°o£enta"  to  representations  it  is  an  instrument  of 
towardsnsness  choice,  and  of  choice  alone.  It  can 
action.  neither  beget  nor  cause  an  intellectual 
state.  Consider  perception,  to  begin  with.  The 
body,  by  the  place  which  at  each  moment  it  occupies 
in  the  universe,  indicates  the  parts  and  the  aspects 
of  matter  on  which  we  can  lay  hold  : our  percep- 
tion, which  exactly  measures  our  virtual  action  on 
things,  thus  limits  itself  to  the  objects  which  ac- 
tually influence  our  organs  and  prepare  our  move- 
ments. Now  let  us  turn  to  memory.  The  function 
of  the  body  is  not  to  store  up  recollections,  but 
simply  to  choose,  in  order  to  bring  back  to  distinct 
consciousness,  by  the  real  efficacy  thus  conferred 
on  it,  the  useful  memory,  that  which  may  com- 
plete and  illuminate  the  present  situation  with  a 


234 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


view  to  ultimate  action.  It  is  true  that  this  second 
choice  is  much  less  strictly  determined  than  the 
first,  because  our  past  experience  is  an  individual  and 
no  longer  a common  experience,  because  we  have 
always  many  different  recollections  equally  capable 
of  squaring  with  the  same  actual  situation,  and 
because  nature  cannot  here,  as  in  the  case  of  per- 
ception, have  one  inflexible  rule  for  delimiting  our 
representations.  A certain  margin  is,  therefore, 
necessarily  left  in  this  case  to  fancy  ; and  though 
animals  scarcely  profit  by  it,  bound  as  they  are  to 
material  needs,  it  would  seem  that  the  human  mind 
ceaselessly  presses  with  the  totality  of  its  memory 
against  the  door  which  the  body  may  half  open 
to  it  : hence  the  play  of  fancy  and  the  work  of 
imagination — so  many  liberties  which  the  mind 
takes  with  nature.  It  is  none  the  less  true  that 
the  orientation  of  our  consciousness  towards  action 
appears  to  be  the  fundamental  law  of  our  psychi- 
cal life. 

Strictly,  we  might  stop  here,  for  this  work  was 
undertaken  to  define  the  function  of  the  body  in 
the  life  of  the  spirit.  But,  on  the  one  hand,  we 
have  raised  by  the  way  a metaphysical  problem 
which  we  cannot  bring  ourselves  to  leave  in  sus- 
pense ; and  on  the  other,  our  researches,  although 
mainly  psychological,  have  on  several  occasions 
given  us  glimpses,  if  not  of  the  means  of  solving 
the  problem,  at  any  rate  of  the  side  on  which  it 
should  be  approached. 

This  problem  is  no  less  than  that  of  the  union  of 


CHAP.  IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  DUALISM 


235 


soul  and  body.  It  comes  before  us  clearly  and 
a true  with  urgency, because  we  make  a profound 

psychology,  distinction  between  matter  and  spirit. 

distinguishing  r 

between  And  we  cannot  regard  it  as  insoluble, 

spirit  and  0 

matter,  yet  since  we  define  spirit  and  matter  by 

suggests  the  . r J 

manner  of  positive  characters,  and  not  by  nega- 

their  union.  r . jo 

tions.  It  is  in  very  truth  within  matter 
that  pure  perception  places  us,  and  it  is  really  into 
spirit  that  we  penetrate  by  means  of  memory. 
But  on  the  other  hand,  whilst  introspection  reveals 
to  us  the  distinction  between  matter  and  spirit, 
it  also  bears  witness  to  their  union.  Either, 
then,  our  analyses  are  vitiated  ab  origine,  or  they 
must  help  us  to  issue  from  the  difficulties  that 
they  raise. 

The  obscurity  of  this  problem,  in  all  doctrines, 
is  due  to  the  double  antithesis  which  our  under- 
DifHcuities  standing  establishes  between  the  ex- 
theSdoubie  tended  and  the  unextended  on  the  one 
fnextension  side,  between  quality  and  quantity  on 
the*  perceiving  the  other.  It  is  certain  that  mind,  first 
S'tenied^nd  aH>  stands  over  against  matter  as  a 
thealperceived  Pure  unity  in  face  of  an  essentially 
universe.  divisible  multiplicity ; and  moreover 
that  our  perceptions  are  composed  of  heterogene- 
ous qualities,  whereas  the  perceived  universe 
seems  to  resolve  itself  into  homogeneous  and  cal- 
culable changes.  There  would  thus  be  inexten- 
sion and  quality  on  the  one  hand,  extensity 
and  quantity  on  the  other.  We  have  repu- 
diated materialism,  which  derives  the  first  term 


236 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


from  the  second ; but  neither  do  we  accept 
idealism,  which  holds  that  the  second  is  con- 
structed by  the  first.  We  maintain,  as  against 
materialism,  that  perception  overflows  infi- 
nitely the  cerebral  state ; but  we  have  en- 
deavoured to  establish,  as  against  idealism, 
that  matter  goes  in  every  direction  beyond  our 
representation  of  it,  a representation  which  the 
mind  has  gathered  out  of  it,  so  to  speak,  by 
an  intelligent  choice.  Of  these  two  opposite 
doctrines,  the  one  attributes  to  the  body  and  the 
other  to  the  intellect  a true  power  of  creation,  the 
first  insisting  that  our  brain  begets  representation 
and  the  second  that  our  understanding  designs  the 
plan  of  nature.  And  against  these  two  doctrines 
we  invoke  the  same  testimony,  that  of  conscious- 
ness, which  shows  us  our  body  as  one  image 
among  others  and  our  understanding  as  a certain 
faculty  of  dissociating,  of  distinguishing,  of  oppos- 
ing logically,  but  not  of  creating  or  of  construct- 
ing. Thus,  willing  captives  of  psychological 
analysis  and  consequently  of  common  sense,  it 
would  seem  that,  after  having  exacerbated  the 
conflicts  raised  by  ordinary  dualism,  we  have 
closed  all  the  avenues  of  escape  which  metaphysic 
might  set  open  to  us. 

But,  just  because  we  have  pushed  dualism  to  an 
extreme,  our  analysis  has  perhaps  dissociated  its 
contradictory  elements.  The  theory  of  pure  per- 
ception on  the  one  hand,  of  pure  memory  on  the 
other,  may  thus  prepare  the  way  for  a reconcili- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  DUALISM 


CHAP,  XV 


237 


ation  between  the  unextended  and  the  extended, 
between  quality  and  quantity. 

To  take  pure  perception  first.  When  we  make 
the  cerebral  state  the  beginning  of  an  action,  and  in 
no  sense  the  condition  of  a perception. 

But  since  . . , . 

pare  percept  we  place  the  perceived  images  of  things 
oithtags, these  outside  the  image  of  our  body,  and 
nature  ot  thus  replace  perception  within  the  things 

perception : 1 

the  idea  of  themselves.  But  then,  our  perception 

extension.  A . , 

being  a part  of  things,  things  participate 
in  the  nature  of  our  perception.  Material  ex- 
tensity is  not,  cannot  any  longer  be,  that  compo- 
site extensity  which  is  considered  in  geometry ; 
it  indeed  resembles  rather  the  undivided  exten- 
sion of  our  own  representation.  That  is  to  say 
that  the  analysis  of  pure  perception  allows  us  to 
foreshadow  in  the  idea  of  extension  the  possible 
approach  to  each  other  of  the  extended  and 
the  unextended. 

But  our  conception  of  pure  memory  should 
lead  us,  by  a parallel  road,  to  attenuate  the  second 
Ana  the  opposition,  that  of  quality  and  quantity. 
ofetseSeity  For  we  have  radically  separated  pure 
isUdueieto  recollection  from  the  cerebral  state 
traction1^  which  continues  it  and  renders  it  effica- 
jde“ofy : tte  cious.  Memory  is,  then,  in  no  degree  an 
tension.  emanation  of  matter  ; on  the  contrary, 
matter,  as  grasped  in  concrete  perception  which 
always  occupies  a certain  duration,  is  in  great 
part  the  work  of  memory.  Now  where  is,  pre- 
cisely, the  difference  between  the  heterogeneous 


238 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


qualities  which  succeed  each  other  in  our  con- 
crete perception  and  the  homogeneous  changes 
which  science  puts  at  the  back  of  these  perceptions 
in  space  ? The  first  are  discontinuous  and  can- 
not be  deduced  one  from  another  ; the  second, 
on  the  contrary,  lend  themselves  to  calculation. 
But,  in  order  that  they  may  lend  themselves  to 
calculation,  there  is  no  need  to  make  them  into 
pure  quantities : we  might  as  well  say  that  they 
are  nothing  at  all.  It  is  enough  that  their  hetero- 
geneity should  be,  so  to  speak,  sufficiently  diluted 
to  become,  from  our  point  of  view,  practically 
negligible.  Now,  if  every  concrete  perception, 
however  short  we  suppose  it,  is  already  a 
synthesis,  made  by  memory,  of  an  infinity  of 
‘ pure  perceptions  ’ which  succeed  each  other, 
must  we  not  think  that  the  heterogeneity  of 
sensible  qualities  is  due  to  their  being  contracted 
in  our  memory,  and  the  relative  homogeneity 
of  objective  changes  to  the  slackness  of  their 
natural  tension  ? And  might  not  the  interval 
between  quantity  and  quality  be  lessened  by 
considerations  of  tension,  as  the  distance  be- 
tween the  extended  and  the  unextended  is  les- 
sened by  considerations  of  extension  ? 

Before  entering  on  this  question,  let  us  formu- 
late the  general  principle  of  the  method  we  would 
apply.  We  have  already  made  use  of  it  in  an 
earlier  work  and  even,  by  implication,  in  the 
present  essay. 

That  which  is  commonly  called  a fact  is  not 


CHAP.  IV 


DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  METHOD 


239 


reality  as  it  appears  to  immediate  intuition,  but 
The  method  of  an  adaptation  of  the  real  to  the  interests 
Objects  and  of  practice  and  to  the  exigencies  of 
ha'ro  been  social  life.  Pure  intuition,  external  or 
reahty.°uphu-  internal,  is  that  of  an  undivided  con- 
SXo4  tinuity.  We  break  up  this  continuity 
reality  itself.  jn^0  elements  laid  side  by  side,  which 

correspond  in  the  one  case  to  distinct  words, 
in  the  other  to  independent  objects.  But,  just 
because  we  have  thus  broken  the  unity  of  our 
original  intuition,  we  feel  ourselves  obliged  to 
establish  between  the  severed  terms  a bond  which 
can  only  then  be  external  and  superadded.  For 
the  living  unity,  which  was  one  with  internal 
continuity,  we  substitute  the  factitious  unity 
of  an  empty  diagram  as  lifeless  as  the  parts 
which  it  holds  together.  Empiricism  and  dog- 
matism are,  at  bottom,  agreed  in  starting  from 
phenomena  so  reconstructed  ; they  differ  only  in 
that  dogmatism  attaches  itself  more  particularly 
to  the  form  and  empiricism  to  the  matter.  Em- 
piricism, feeling  indeed,  but  feeling  vaguely,  the 
artificial  character  of  the  relations  which  unite 
the  terms  together,  holds  to  the  terms  and 
neglects  the  relations.  Its  error  is  not  that 
it  sets  too  high  a value  on  experience,  but 
that  it  substitutes  for  true  experience,  that  ex- 
perience which  arises  from  the  immediate  contact 
of  the  mind  with  its  object,  an  experience  which  is 
disarticulated  and  therefore,  most  probably,  dis- 
figured,— at  any  rate  arranged  for  the  greater 


240 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap,  rv 


facility  of  action  and  of  language.  Just  because 
this  parcelling  of  the  real  has  been  effected  in  view 
of  the  exigencies  of  practical  life,  it  has  not  followed 
the  internal  lines  of  the  structure  of  things  : for 
that  very  reason  empiricism  cannot  satisfy  the 
mind  in  regard  to  any  of  the  great  problems  and, 
indeed,  whenever  it  becomes  fully  conscious  of  its 
own  principle,  it  refrains  from  putting  them. — 
Dogmatism  discovers  and  disengages  the  diffi- 
culties to  which  empiricism  is  blind  ; but  it  really 
seeks  the  solution  along  the  very  road  that 
empiricism  has  marked  out.  It  accepts,  at  the 
hands  of  empiricism,  phenomena  that  are  separate 
and  discontinuous,  and  simply  endeavours  to  effect 
a synthesis  of  them  which,  not  having  been  given 
by  intuition,  cannot  but  be  arbitrary.  In  other 
words,  if  metaphysic  is  only  a construction,  there 
are  several  systems  of  metaphysic  equally  plau- 
sible, which  consequently  refute  each  other, 
and  the  last  word  must  remain  with  a critical 
philosophy,  which  holds  all  knowledge  to  be  re- 
lative and  the  ultimate  nature  of  things  to  be 
inaccessible  to  the  mind.  Such  is,  in  truth,  the 
ordinary  course  of  philosophic  thought : we  start 
from  what  we  take  to  be  experience,  we  attempt 
various  possible  arrangements  of  the  fragments 
which  apparently  compose  it,  and  when  at  last  we 
feel  bound  to  acknowledge  the  fragility  of  every 
edifice  that  we  have  built,  we  end  by  giving 
up  all  effort  to  build.  But  there  is  a last  enter- 
prise that  might  be  undertaken.  It  would  be  to 


CHAP.  IV 


DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  METHOD 


241 


seek  experience  at  its  source,  or  rather  above  that 
decisive  turn  where,  taking  a bias  in  the  direction 
of  our  utility,  it  becomes  properly  human  experi- 
ence. The  impotence  of  speculative  reason,  as 
Kant  has  demonstrated  it,  is  perhaps  at  bottom 
only  the  impotence  of  an  intellect  enslaved  to 
certain  necessities  of  bodily  life,  and  concerned 
with  a matter  which  man  has  had  to  disorganize 
for  the  satisfaction  of  his  wants.  Our  knowledge  of 
things  would  thus  no  longer  be  relative  to  the 
fundamental  structure  of  our  mind,  but  only  to  its 
superficial  and  acquired  habits,  to  the  contingent 
form  which  it  derives  from  our  bodily  functions 
and  from  our  lower  needs.  The  relativity  of 
knowledge  may  not,  then,  be  definitive.  By 
unmaking  that  which  these  needs  have  made,  we 
may  restore  to  intuition  its  original  purity  and 
so  recover  contact  with  the  real. 

This  method  presents,  in  its  application,  diffi- 
culties which  are  considerable  and  ever  recurrent, 
because  it  demands  for  the  solution  of  each  new 
problem  an  entirely  new  effort.  To  give  up  certain 
habits  of  thinking,  and  even  of  perceiving,  is  far 
from  easy  : yet  this  is  but  the  negative  part  of  the 
work  to  be  done  ; and  when  it  is  done,  when  we 
have  placed  ourselves  at  what  we  have  called  the 
turn  of  experience,  when  we  have  profited  by  the 
faint  light  which,  illuminating  the  passage  from 
the  immediate  to  the  useful,  marks  the  dawn  of  our 
human  experience,  there  still  remains  to  be  recon- 
stituted, with  the  infinitely  small  elements  which 


R 


242 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP  . IV 


we  thus  perceive  of  the  real  curve,  the  curve  itself 
stretching  out  into  the  darkness  behind  them. 
In  this  sense  the  task  of  the  philosopher,  as  we 
understand  it,  closely  resembles  that  of  the  mathe- 
matician who  determines  a function  by  starting 
from  the  differential.  The  final  effort  of  philo- 
sophical research  is  a true  work  of  integration. 

We  have  already  attempted  to  apply  this 
method  to  the  problem  of  consciousness  j1  and  it 
appeared  to  us  that  the  utilitarian  work  of  the  mind, 
in  what  concerns  the  perception  of  our  inner  life, 
consisted  in  a sort  of  refracting  of  pure  duration 
into  space,  a refracting  which  permits  us  to  separate 
our  psychical  states,  to  reduce  them  to  a more 
and  more  impersonal  form  and  to  impose  names 
upon  them, — in  short,  to  make  them  enter  the  cur- 
rent of  social  life.  Empiricism  and  dogmatism 
take  interior  states  in  this  discontinuous 
form  ; the  first  confining  itself  to  the 
states  themselves,  so  that  it  can  see  in 
the  self  only  a succession  of  juxtaposed 
facts  ; the  other  grasping  the  necessity 
of  a bond,  but  unable  to  find  this  bond 
anywhere  except  in  a form  or  in  a force, — an 
exterior  form  into  which  the  aggregate  is  inserted, 
an  indetermined  and  so  to  speak  physical  force 
which  assures  the  cohesion  of  the  elements.  Hence 
the  two  opposing  points  of  view  as  to  the  question 


But  empiri- 
cism and 
dogmatism 
alike  take 
reality 
In  a discon- 
tinuous form, 
ignoring 
duration. 


1 Time  and  Free  Will,  H.  Bergson.  Published  by  Sonnen- 
schein  & Co.  Translation  of  Les  donnees  immediate s de  la 

conscience 


CHAP,  rv 


DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  METHOD 


243 


of  freedom  : for  determinism  the  act  is  the  result- 
ant of  a mechanical  composition  of  the  elements  ; 
for  the  adversaries  of  that  doctrine,  if  they  adhered 
strictly  to  their  principle,  the  free  decision  would 
be  an  arbitrary  fiat,  a true  creation  ex  nihilo. — 
It  seemed  to  us  that  a third  course  lay  open.  This 
is  to  replace  ourselves  in  pure  duration,  of  which 
the  flow  is  continuous  and  in  which  we  pass  insensi- 
bly from  one  state  to  another  : a continuity  which 
is  really  lived,  but  artifically  decomposed  for  the 
greater  convenience  of  customary  knowledge. 
Then,  it  seemed  to  us,  we  saw  the  action  issue  from 
its  antecedents  by  an  evolution  sui  generis,  in  such 
a way  that  we  find  in  this  action  the  antecedents 
which  explain  it,  while  it  yet  adds  to  these  some- 
thing entirely  new,  being  an  advance  upon  them 
such  as  the  fruit  is  upon  the  flower.  Freedom  is 
not  hereby,  as  has  been  asserted,  reduced  to  sen- 
sible spontaneity.  At  most  this  would  be  the 
case  in  the  animal,  of  which  the  psychical  life  is 
mainly  affective.  But  in  man,  the  thinking  being, 
the  free  act  may  be  termed  a synthesis  of  feelings 
and  ideas,  and  the  evolution  which  leads  to  it  a 
reasonable  evolution.  The  artifice  of  this  method 
simply  consists,  in  short,  in  distinguishing  the 
point  of  view  of  customary  or  useful  knowledge 
from  that  of  true  knowledge.  The  duration 
wherein  we  see  ourselves  acting,  and  in  which  it  is 
useful  that  we  should  see  ourselves,  is  a duration 
whose  elements  are  dissociated  and  juxtaposed. 
The  duration  wherein  we  act  is  a duration  wherein 


244 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


our  states  melt  into  each  other.  It  is  within  this 
that  we  should  try  to  replace  ourselves  by 
thought,  in  the  exceptional  and  unique  case  when 
we  speculate  on  the  intimate  nature  of  action,  that 
is  to  say,  when  we  are  discussing  human  freedom. 

Is  a method  of  this  kind  applicable  to  the  prob- 
lem of  matter  ? The  question  is,  whether,  in  this 
‘ diversity  of  phenomena  ’ of  which  Kant  spoke, 
that  part  which  shows  a vague  tendency  to- 
wards extension  could  be  seized  by  us  on  the 
hither  side  of  the  homogeneous  space  to  which 
it  is  applied  and  through  which  we  subdivide  it, 
— just  as  that  part  which  goes  to  make  up  our 
own  inner  life  can  be  detached  from  time, 
equally  ignore  empty  and  indefinite,  and  brought  back 

that  extension,  , . , . , 

concrete  and  to  pure  duration.  Certainly  it  would 

undivided,  . .... 

beneath  which  be  a chimerical  enterprise  to  try  to  free 

we  stretoh  out  . . . , , 

an  artificial  ourselves  from  the  fundamental  con- 
ditions of  external  perception.  But  the 
question  is  whether  certain  conditions,  which 
we  usually  regard  as  fundamental,  do  not  rather 
concern  the  use  to  be  made  of  things,  the 
practical  advantage  to  be  drawn  from  them,  far 
more  than  the  pure  knowledge  which  we  can  have 
of  them.  More  particularly,  in  regard  to  concrete 
extension,  continuous,  diversified  and  at  the  same 
time  organized,  we  do  not  see  why  it  should  be 
bound  up  with  the  amorphous  and  inert  space 
which  subtends  it — a space  which  we  divide  in- 
definitely, out  of  which  we  carve  figures  arbitrar- 
ily, and  in  which  movement  itself,  as  we  have 


chap,  iv  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  METHOD  245 

said  elsewhere,  can  only  appear  as  a multiplicity  of 
instantaneous  positions,  since  nothing  there  can 
ensure  the  coherence  of  past  with  present.  It 
might,  then,  be  possible,  in  a certain  measure,  to 
transcend  space  without  stepping  out  from 
extensity ; and  here  we  should  really  have  a 
return  to  the  immediate,  since  we  do  indeed  per- 
ceive extensity,  whereas  space  is  merely  conceived, — 
being  a kind  of  mental  diagram.  It  may  be  urged 
against  this  method  that  it  arbitrarily  attri- 
butes a privileged  value  to  immediate  know- 
ledge ? But  what  reasons  should  we  have  for 
doubting  any  knowledge, — would  the  idea  of  doubt- 
ing it  ever  occur  to  us, — but  for  the  difficulties 
and  the  contradictions  which  reflexion  discovers, 
but  for  the  problems  which  philosophy  poses  ? 
And  would  not  immediate  knowledge  find  in  itself 
its  justification  and  proof,  if  we  could  show  that 
these  difficulties,  contradictions  and  problems 
are  mainly  the  result  of  the  symbolic  diagrams 
which  cover  it  up,  diagrams  which  have  for  us 
become  reality  itself,  and  beyond  which  only  an 
intense  and  unusual  effort  can  succeed  in  pene- 
trating ? 

Let  us  choose  at  once,  among  the  results  to 
which  the  application  of  this  method  may  lead, 
those  which  concern  our  present  enquiry.  We 
must  confine  ourselves  to  mere  suggestions  ; 
there  can  be  no  question  here  of  constructing  a 
theory  of  matter. 


246  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  iv 

I. — Every  movement,  inasmuch  as  it  is  a passage 
from  rest  to  rest,  is  absolutely  indivisible. 

This  is  not  an  hypothesis,  but  a fact,  generally 
masked  by  an  hypothesis. 

Here,  for  example,  is  my  hand,  placed  at  the 
point  A.  I carry  it  to  the  point  B,  passing  at  one 
stroke  through  the  interval  between  them.  There 
are  two  things  in  this  movement : an  image  which 
I see,  and  an  act  of  which  my  muscular  sense 
makes  my  consciousness  aware.  My  consciousness 
gives  me  the  inward  feeling  of  a single  fact, 
for  in  A was  rest,  in  B there  is  again  rest,  and 
between  A and  B is  placed  an  indivisible  or  at 
least  an  undivided  act,  the  passage  from  rest  to 
Movement  resh  which  is  movement  itself.  But 
ibie^ttis  my  sight  perceives  the  movement  in 
trajectory  of  the  form  of  a line  AB  which  is  traversed, 
body* that  is  an(f  this  line,  like  all  space,  may  be 
divisible.  indefinitely  divided.  It  seems  then,  at 
first  sight,  that  I may  at  will  take  this  move- 
ment to  be  multiple  or  indivisible,  according  as 
I consider  it  in  space  or  in  time,  as  an  image  which 
takes  shape  outside  of  me  or  as  an  act  which  I 
am  myself  accomplishing. 

Yet,  when  I put  aside  all  preconceived  ideas, 
I soon  perceive  that  I have  no  such  choice,  that 
even  my  sight  takes  in  the  movement  from  A to  B 
as  an  indivisible  whole,  and  that  if  it  divides  any- 
thing, it  is  the  line  supposed  to  have  been  traversed, 
and  not  the  movement  traversing  it.  It  is  indeed 


CHAP.  IV 


INDIVISIBILITY  OF  MOVEMENT 


247 


true  that  my  hand  does  not  go  from  A to  B with- 
out passing  through  the  intermediate  positions, 
and  that  these  intermediate  points  resemble 
stages,  as  numerous  as  you  please,  all  along  the 
route ; but  there  is,  between  the  divisions  so 
marked  out  and  stages  properly  so  called,  this 
capital  difference,  that  at  a stage  we  halt,  where- 
as at  these  points  the  moving  body  passes.  Now 
a passage  is  a movement  and  a halt  is  an  immo- 
bility. The  halt  interrupts  the  movement ; the  pas- 
sage is  one  with  the  movement  itself.  When  I see 
the  moving  body  pass  any  point,  I conceive,  no 
doubt,  that  it  might  stop  there  ; and  even  when 
it  does  not  stop  there,  I incline  to  consider  its 
passage  as  an  arrest,  though  infinitely  short, 
because  I must  have  at  least  the  time  to  think 
of  it ; but  it  is  only  my  imagination  which  stops 
there,  and  what  the  moving  body  has  to  do  is,  on 
the  contrary,  to  move.  As  every  point  of  space 
necessarily  appears  to  me  fixed,  I find  it  ex- 
tremely difficult  not  to  attribute  to  the  moving 
body  itself  the  immobility  of  the  point  with 
which,  for  a moment,  I make  it  coincide ; it 
seems  to  me,  then,  when  I reconstitute  the  total 
movement,  that  the  moving  body  has  stayed  an 
infinitely  short  time  at  every  point  of  its  trajec- 
tory. But  we  must  not  confound  the  data  of  the 
senses,  which  perceive  the  movement,  with  the 
artifice  of  the  mind,  which  recomposes  it.  The 
senses,  left  to  themselves,  present  to  us  the  real 
movement,  between  two  real  halts,  as  a solid 


248  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  iv 

and  undivided  whole.  The  division  is  the  work 
of  our  imagination,  of  which  indeed  the  office  is 
to  fix  the  moving  images  of  our  ordinary  experi- 
ence, like  the  instantaneous  flash  which  illumin- 
ates a stormy  landscape  by  night. 

We  discover  here,  at  its  outset,  the  illusion  which 
accompanies  and  masks  the  perception  of  real 
movement.  Movement  visibly  consists  in  passing 
from  nne  point  to  another,  and  consequently  in 
traversing  space.  Now  the  space  which  is  tra- 
versed is  infinitely  divisible  ; and  as  the  move- 
ment is,  so  to  speak,  applied  to  the  line  along 
which  it  passes,  it  appears  to  be  one  with  this 
line  and,  like  it,  divisible.  Has  not  the  move- 
ment itself  drawn  the  line  ? Has  it  not  traversed 
in  turn  the  successive  and  juxtaposed  points  of 
that  line  ? Yes,  no  doubt,  but  these  points  have 
no  reality  except  in  a line  drawn,  that  is  to  say 
motionless ; and  by  the  very  fact  that  you 
represent  the  movement  to  yourself  successively 
in  these  different  points,  you  necessarily  arrest 
it  in  each  of  them  ; your  successive  positions 
are,  at  bottom,  only  so  many  imaginary  halts. 
You  substitute  the  path  for  the  journey,  and 
because  the  journey  is  subtended  by  the  path 
you  think  that  the  two  coincide.  But  how 
should  a progress  coincide  with  a thing,  a move- 
ment with  an  immobility  ? 

What  facilitates  this  illusion  is  that  we  dis- 
tinguish moments  in  the  course  of  duration,  like 
halts  in  the  passage  of  the  moving  body.  Even 


CHAP.  IV 


INDIVISIBILITY  OF  MOVEMENT 


249 


if  we  grant  that  the  movement  from  one  point  to 
another  forms  an  undivided  whole,  this  move- 
ment nevertheless  takes  a certain  time  ; so  that 
if  we  carve  out  of  this  duration  an  indivisible 
instant,  it  seems  that  the  moving  body  must  oc- 
cupy, at  that  precise  moment,  a certain  position, 
which  thus  stands  out  from  the  whole.  The  indi- 
visibility of  motion  implies,  then,  the  impossibil- 
ity of  real  instants ; and  indeed,  a very  brief 
analysis  of  the  idea  of  duration  will  show  us  both 
why  we  attribute  instants  to  duration  and  why 
it  cannot  have  any.  Suppose  a simple  movement 
like  that  of  my  hand  when  it  goes  from  A to  B. 
This  passage  is  given  to  my  consciousness  as 
an  undivided  whole.  No  doubt  it  endures  ; but 
this  duration,  which  in  fact  coincides  with  the 
aspect  which  the  movement  has  inwardly 
for  my  consciousness,  is,  like  it,  whole  and 
undivided.  Now,  while  it  presents  itself,  qua 
movement,  as  a simple  fact,  it  describes  in  space 
a trajectory  which  I may  consider,  for  purposes 
of  simplification,  as  a geometrical  line ; and  the 
extremities  of  this  line,  considered  as  abstract 
limits,  are  no  longer  lines,  but  indivisible  points. 
Now,  if  the  line,  which  the  moving  body  has 
described,  measures  for  me  the  duration  of  its 
movement,  must  not  the  point,  where  the  line 
ends,  symbolize  for  me  a terminus  of  this  dura- 
tion ? And  if  this  point  is  an  indivisible  of  length, 
how  shall  we  avoid  terminating  the  duration  of 
the  movement  by  an  indivisible  of  duration  ? If 


250 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP. IV 


the  total  line  represents  the  total  duration,  the  parts 
of  the  line  must,  it  seems,  correspond  to  parts 
of  the  duration,  and  the  points  of  the  line  to 
moments  of  time.  The  indivisibles  of  duration, 
or  moments  of  time,  are  born,  then,  of  the  need 
of  symmetry ; we  come  to  them  naturally  as 
soon  as  we  demand  from  space  an  integral  pre- 
sentment of  duration. — But  herein,  precisely,  lies 
the  error.  While  the  line  AB  symbolizes  the 
duration  already  lapsed  of  the  movement  from  A 
to  B already  accomplished,  it  cannot,  motion- 
less, represent  the  movement  in  its  accomplish- 
ment nor  duration  in  its  flow.  And  from 
the  fact  that  this  line  is  divisible  into  parts 
and  that  it  ends  in  points,  we  cannot  conclude 
either  that  the  corresponding  duration  is  com- 
posed of  separate  parts  or  that  it  is  limited  by 
instants- 

The  arguments  of  Zeno  of  Elea  have  no  other 
origin  than  this  illusion.  They  all  consist  in 
Zeno  trans-  making  time  and  movement  coincide 

lers  to  the  r , . 

moving  body  with  the  line  which  underlies  them,  m 
the  proper- 
ties oi  its  attributing  to  them  the  same  sub- 
trajectory: ....  , ..  . . , . 

faculties ^nd  divisions  as  t°  the  line,  m short  in 
contradictions  treating  them  like  that  line.  In  this 
confusion  Zeno  was  encouraged  by  common 
sense,  which  usually  carries  over  to  the  movement 
the  properties  of  its  trajectory,  and  also  by 
language,  which  always  translates  movement 
and  duration  in  terms  of  space.  But  common 
sense  and  language  have  a right  to  do  so 


CHAP.  IV 


INDIVISIBILITY  OF  MOVEMENT 


251 


and  are  even  bound  to  do  so,  for,  since  they 
always  regard  the  becoming  as  a thing  to  be 
made  use  of,  they  have  no  more  concern  with 
the  interior  organization  of  movement  than 
a workman  has  with  the  molecular  structure  of 
his  tools.  In  holding  movement  to  be  divisible, 
as  its  trajectory  is,  common  sense  merely  expresses 
the  two  facts  which  alone  are  of  importance  in 
practical  life : first,  that  every  movement  de- 
scribes a space  ; second,  that  at  every  point  of 
this  space  the  moving  body  might  stop.  But  the 
philosopher  who  reasons  upon  the  inner  nature 
of  movement  is  bound  to  restore  to  it  the  mobility 
which  is  its  essence,  and  this  is  what  Zeno  omits 
to  do.  By  the  first  argument  (the  Dichotomy) 
he  supposes  the  moving  body  to  be  at  rest,  and 
then  considers  nothing  but  the  stages,  infinite  in 
number,  that  are  along  the  line  to  be  traversed  : 
we  cannot  imagine,  he  says,  how  the  body  could 
ever  get  through  the  interval  between  them. 
But  in  this  way  he  merely  proves  that  it  is 
impossible  to  construct,  d priori,  movement  with 
immobilities,  a thing  no  man  ever  doubted. 
The  sole  question  is  whether,  movement  being 
posited  as  a fact,  there  is  a sort  of  retrospective 
absurdity  in  assuming  that  an  infinite  number 
of  points  has  been  passed  through.  But  at 
this  we  need  not  wonder,  since  movement  is  an 
undivided  fact,  or  a series  of  undivided  facts, 
whereas  the  trajectory  is  infinitely  divisible.  In 
the  second  argument  (the  Achilles)  movement  is 


252 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap,  nr 


indeed  given,  it  is  even  attributed  to  two  moving 
bodies,  but,  always  by  the  same  error,  there  is 
an  assumption  that  their  movement  coincides 
with  their  path,  and  that  we  may  divide 
it,  like  the  path  itself,  in  any  way  we  please. 
Then,  instead  of  recognizing  that  the  tortoise 
has  the  pace  of  a tortoise  and  Achilles  the  pace 
of  Achilles,  so  that  after  a certain  number  of  these 
indivisible  acts  or  bounds  Achilles  will  have 
outrun  the  tortoise,  the  contention  is  that  we 
may  disarticulate  as  we  will  the  movement  of 
Achilles  and,  as  we  will  also,  the  movement  of  the 
tortoise  : thus  reconstructing  both  in  an  arbi- 
trary )Way,  according  to  a law  of  our  own  which 
may  be  incompatible  with  the  real  conditions 
of  mobility.  The  same  fallacy  appears,  yet 
more  evident,  in  the  third  argument  (the  Arrow) 
which  consists  in  the  conclusion  that,  because 
it  is  possible  to  distinguish  points  on  the  path 
of  a moving  body,  we  have  the  right  to  distinguish 
indivisible  moments  in  the  duration  of  its  move- 
ment. But  the  most  instructive  of  Zeno’s  argu- 
ments is  perhaps  the  fourth  (the  Stadium)  which 
has,  we  believe,  been  unjustly  disdained,  and  of 
which  the  absurdity  is  more  manifest  only  because 
the  postulate  masked  in  the  three  others  is  here 
frankly  displayed.1  Without  entering  on  a dis- 

1 We  may  here  briefly  recall  this  argument.  Let  there 
be  a moving  body  which  is  displaced  with  a certain  velocity, 
and  which  passes  simultaneously  before  two  bodies,  one  at 
rest  and  the  other  moving  towards  it  with  the  same  velocity 


CHAP.  IV 


INDIVISIBILITY  OF  MOVEMENT 


253 


cussion  which  would  here  be  out  of  place,  we  will 
content  ourselves  with  observing  that  motion,  as 
given  to  spontaneous  perception,  is  a fact  which  is 
quite  clear,  and  that  the  difficulties  and  contra- 
dictions pointed  out  by  the  Eleatic  school  concern 
far  less  the  living  movement  itself  than  a dead 
and  artificial  reorganization  of  movement  by  the 
mind.  But  we  now  come  to  the  conclusion  of  all 
the  preceding  paragraphs  : 

as  its  own.  During  the  same  time  that  it  passes  a certain 
length  of  the  first  body,  it  naturally  passes  double  that  length 
of  the  other.  Whence  Zeno  concludes  that  ‘ a duration  is 
the  double  of  itself.’  A childish  argument,  it  is  said,  because 
Zeno  takes  no  account  of  the  fact  that  the  velocity  is  in  the 
one  case  double  that  which  it  is  in  the  other. — Certainly,  but 
how,  I ask,  could  he  be  aware  of  this  ? That,  in  the  same 
time,  a moving  body  passes  different  lengths  of  two  bodies, 
of  which  one  is  at  rest  and  the  other  in  motion,  is  clear  for 
him  who  makes  of  duration  a kind  of  absolute,  and  places 
it  either  in  consciousness  or  in  something  which  partakes 
of  consciousness.  For  while  a determined  portion  of  this 
absolute  or  conscious  duration  elapses,  the  same  moving 
body  will  traverse,  as  it  passes  the  two  bodies,  two  spaces  of 
which  the  one  is  the  double  of  the  other,  without  our  being 
able  to  conclude  from  this  that  a duration  is  double  itself, 
since  duration  remains  independent  of  both  spaces.  But 
Zeno’s  error,  in  all  his  reasoning,  is  due  to  just  this  fact, 
that  he  leaves  real  duration  on  one  side,  and  considers  only 
its  objective  track  in  space.  How  then  should  the  two 
fines  traced  by  the  same  moving  body  not  merit  an  equal 
consideration,  qua  measures  of  duration  ? And  how  should 
they  not  represent  the  same  duration,  even  though  the  one 
is  twice  the  other  ? In  concluding  from  this  that  1 a duration 
is  the  double  of  itself,’  Zeno  was  true  to  the  logic  of  his  hypo- 
thesis ; and  his  fourth  argument  is  worth  exactly  as  much 
as  the  three  others. 


254 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


II.  There  are  real  movements. 

The  mathematician,  expressing  with  greater  pre- 
cision an  idea  of  common  sense,  defines  position 
by  the  distance  from  points  of  reference 

Movement  * , , , 

is  relative  or  from  axes,  and  movement  by  the 
mathema-  variation  of  the  distance.  Of  move- 

tioian,  real 

ior  the  ment,  then,  he  only  retains  changes  m 
length  ; and  as  the  absolute  values  of 
the  variable  distance  between  a point  and  an 
axis,  for  instance,  express  either  the  displacement 
of  the  axis  with  regard  to  the  point  or  that 
of  the  point  with  regard  to  the  axis,  just  as  we 
please,  he  attributes  indifferently  to  the  same  point 
repose  or  motion.  If,  then,  movement  is  no- 
thing but  a change  of  distance,  the  same  object 
is  in  motion  or  motionless  according  to  the 
points  to  which  it  is  referred,  and  there  is  no 
absolute  movement. 

But  things  wear  a very  different  aspect  when 
we  pass  from  mathematics  to  physics,  and  from 
the  abstract  study  of  motion  to  a consideration 
of  the  concrete  changes  occurring  in  the  universe. 
Though  we  are  free  to  attribute  rest  or  motion 
to  any  material  point  taken  by  itself,  it  is  none 
the  less  true  that  the  aspect  of  the  material 
universe  changes,  that  the  internal  configuration 
of  every  real  system  varies,  and  that  here  we  have 
no  longer  the  choice  between  mobility  and  rest. 
Movement,  whatever  its  inner  nature,  becomes 
an  indisputable  reality.  We  may  not  be  able 
to  say  what  parts  of  the  whole  are  in  motion  ; 


CHAP.  IV 


REAL  MOVEMENT 


255 


motion  there  is  in  the  whole,  none  the  less. 
Therefore  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  same 
thinkers,  who  maintain  that  every  particular 
movement  is  relative,  speak  of  the  totality  of 
movements  as  of  an  absolute.  The  contradiction 
has  been  pointed  out  in  Descartes,  who,  after  hav- 
ing given  to  the  thesis  of  relativity  its  most  radical 
form  by  affirming  that  all  movement  is  ‘ recip- 
rocal,' 1 formulated  the  laws  of  motion  as  though 
motion  were  an  absolute.2  Leibniz  and  others 
after  him  have  remarked  this  contradiction 3 : 
it  is  due  simply  to  the  fact  that  Descartes  handles 
motion  as  a physicist  after  having  defined  it  as  a 
geometer.  For  the  geometer  all  movement  is 
relative  : which  signifies  only,  in  our  view,  that 
none  of  our  mathematical  symbols  can  express  the 
fact  that  it  is  the  moving  body  which  is  in  motion 
rather  than  the  axes  or  the  points  to  which  it  is 
referred.  And  this  is  very  natural,  because 
these  symbols,  always  meant  for  measurement, 
can  express  only  distances.  But  that  there 
is  real  motion  no  one  can  seriously  deny  : if 
there  were  not,  nothing  in  the  universe  would 
change  ; and,  above  all,  there  would  be  no  meaning 
in  the  consciousness  which  we  have  of  our  own 
movements.  In  his  controversy  with  Descartes 
Henry  More  makes  jesting  allusion  to  this  last 

1 Descartes,  Principss,  ii,  29. 

8 Principes,  part  ii,  § 37  et  seq. 

* Leibniz,  Specimen  dynamicum  (Mathem.  Schriften, 
Gerhardt,  2nd  section,  vol.  ii,  p,  246) 


256 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap,  nr 


point : ‘ When  I am  quietly  seated,  and  another, 
going  a thousand  paces  away,  is  flushed  with 
fatigue,  it  is  certainly  he  who  moves  and  I who 
am  at  rest.' 1 

But  if  there  is  absolute  motion,  is  it  possible 
to  persist  in  regarding  movement  as  nothing 
but  a change  of  place  ? We  should  then 
have  to  make  diversity  of  place  into 
any  real  move-  an  absolute  difference,  and  distinguish 
cannot  be  absolute  positions  in  an  absolute  space, 
changes  oi  Newton  8 went  as  far  as  this,  followed 
moreover  by  Euler8  and  by  others. 
But  can  this  be  imagined,  or  even  conceived  ? 
A place  could  be  absolutely  distinguished  from 
another  place  only  by  its  quality  or  by  its  rela- 
tion to  the  totality  of  space  : so  that  space 
would  become,  on  this  hypothesis,  either  com- 
posed of  heterogeneous  parts  or  finite.  But  to 
finite  space  we  should  give  another  space  as 
boundary,  and  beneath  heterogeneous  parts  of 
space  we  should  imagine  an  homogeneous  space 
as  its  foundation  : in  both  cases  it  is  to  homogen- 
eous and  indefinite  space  that  we  should  neces- 
sarily return.  We  cannot,  then,  hinder  ourselves 
either  from  holding  every  place  to  be  relative, 
or  from  believing  some  motion  to  be  absolute. 

It  may  be  urged  that  real  movement  is  dis- 
tinguished from  relative  movement  in  that  it 

1 H.  Moras,  Scripta  Philosophica,  1679,  vol.  ii,  p.  248. 

0 Newton,  Principia,  Ed.  Thomson,  1871,  p.  6 et  seq. 

3 Euler,  Theoria  mvtus  corporum  solidorum,  1765,  pp.  30-33. 


CHAP.  IV 


REAL  MOVEMENT 


257 


has  a real  cause,  that  it  emanates  from  a force. 
But  we  must  understand  what  we  mean  by  this 
last  word.  In  natural  science  force  is  only  a 
function  of  mass  and  velocity  : it  is  measured 
by  acceleration  : it  is  known  and  estimated  only 
by  the  movements  which  it  is  supposed  to 
produce  in  space.  One  with  these  movements, 
it  shares  their  relativity.  Hence  the  physicists, 
who  seek  the  principle  of  absolute  motion  in  force 
so  defined,  are  led  by  the  logic  of  their  system 
back  to  the  hypothesis  of  an  absolute  space  which 
they  had  at  first  desired  to  avoid.1  So  it  will  be- 
come necessary  to  take  refuge  in  the  metaphy- 
sical sense  of  the  word,  and  attribute  the  motion 
which  we  perceive  in  space  to  profound  causes, 
analogous  to  those  which  our  consciousness  be- 
lieves it  discovers  within  the  feeling  of  effort. 
But  is  the  feeling  of  effort  really  the  sense  of 
a profound  cause  ? Have  not  decisive  analyses 
shown  that  there  is  nothing  in  this  feeling  other 
than  the  consciousness  of  movements  already 
effected  or  begun  at  the  periphery  of  the  body  ? 
It  is  in  vain,  then,  that  we  seek  to  found  the 
reality  of  motion  on  a cause  which  is  distinct 
from  it  : analysis  always  brings  us  back  to 
motion  itself. 

But  why  seek  elsewhere  ? So  long  as  we  apply 
a movement  to  the  line  along  which  it  passes, 
the  same  point  will  appear  to  us,  by  turns,  accord- 
ing to  the  points  or  the  axes  to  which  we 

1 Newton,  in  particular. 


25B 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


refer  it,  either  at  rest  or  in  movement.  But  it 
is  otherwise  if  we  draw  out  of  the  movement  the 
mobility  which  is  its  essence.  When  my  eyes  give 
me  the  sensation  of  a movement,  this  sensation  is 
a reality,  and  something  is  effectually  going  on, 
whether  it  be  that  an  object  is  changing  its  place 
before  my  eyes  or  that  my  eyes  are  moving 
before  the  object.  A fortiori  am  I assured  of 
the  reality  of  the  movement  when  I produce 
it  after  having  willed  to  produce  it,  and  my 
muscular  sense  brings  me  the  consciousness 
of  it.  That  is  to  say,  I grasp  the  reality  of 
movement  when  it  appears  to  me,  within  me,  as  a 
change  of  state  or  of  quality.  But  then  how  should 
it  be  otherwise  when  I perceive  changes  of  quality 
in  things  ? Sound  differs  absolutely  from  silence, 
as  also  one  sound  from  another  sound.  Between 
light  and  darkness,  between  colours,  between 
shades,  the  difference  is  absolute.  The  passage 
from  one  to  another  is  also  an  absolutely  real 
phenomenon.  I hold  then  the  two  ends  of  the 
chain,  muscular  sensations  within  me,  the  sensible 
qualities  of  matter  without  me,  and  neither  in 
the  one  case  nor  in  the  other  do  I see  movement, 
if  there  be  movement,  as  a mere  relation  : it  is  an 
absolute.  Now,  between  these  two  extremities  lie 
the  movements  of  external  bodies,  properly  so 
called.  How  are  we  to  distinguish  here  between  real 
and  apparent  movement  ? Of  what  object,  exter- 
nally perceived,  can  it  be  said  that  it  moves,  of 
what  other  that  it  remains  motionless  ? To  put 


CHAP.  IV 


PERCEPTION  AND  MATTER 


259 


such  a question  is  to  admit  that  the  discontinuity 
established  by  common  sense  between  objects 
independent  of  each  other,  having  each  its  indi- 
viduality, comparable  to  kinds  of  persons,  is  a valid 
distinction.  For,  on  the  contrary  hypothesis, 
the  question  would  no  longer  be  how  are  pro- 
duced in  given  parts  of  matter  changes  of  posi- 
tion, but  how  is  effected  in  the  whole  a change 
of  aspect, — a change  of  which  we  should  then  have 
to  ascertain  the  nature.  Let  us  then  formulate 
at  once  our  third  proposition : — 

III.  All  division  of  matter  into  independent 
todies  with  absolutely  determined  outlines  is  an 
artificial  division. 

A body,  that  is,  an  independent  material  object, 
presents  itself  at  first  to  us  as  a system  of  qualities 
The  division  of 'm  which  resistance  and  colour — the  data 
Sstoct 'bodies  si ght  and  touch — occupy  the  centre, 

oi  immediate  the  rest  being,  as  it  were,  suspended 
yetUademand  from  them.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
we  “consider'*  data  of  sight  and  touch  are  those  which 
remotrau**  most  obviously  have  extension  in  space, 
pirations.  and  essential  character  of  space  is 

continuity.  There  are  intervals  of  silence  between 
sounds,  for  the  sense  of  hearing  is  not  always  oc- 
; cupied  ; between  odours,  between  tastes,  there  are 
gaps,  as  though  the  senses  of  smell  and  taste  only 
functioned  accidentally  : as  soon  as  we  open 

our  eyes,  on  the  contrary,  the  whole  field  of  vision 
takes  on  colour  ; and,  since  solids  are  necessarily 
in  contact  with  each  other,  our  touch  must  follow 


26o 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


the  surface  or  the  edges  of  objects  without  ever 
encountering  a true  interruption.  How  do  we 
parcel  out  the  continuity  of  material  extensity, 
given  in  primary  perception,  into  bodies  of  which 
each  is  supposed  to  have  its  substance  and  in- 
dividuality ? No  doubt  the  aspect  of  this  con- 
tinuity changes  from  moment  to  moment ; but 
why  do  we  not  purely  and  simply  realize  that 
the  whole  has  changed,  as  with  the  turning  of 
a kaleidoscope  ? Why,  in  short,  do  we  seek,  in  the 
mobility  of  the  whole,  tracks  that  are  supposed  to 
be  followed  by  bodies  supposed  to  be  in  motion  ? 

A moving  continuity  is  given  to  us,  in  which  every- 
thing changes  and  yet  remains  : whence  comes 
it  that  we  dissociate  the  two  terms,  permanence  and 
change,  and  then  represent  permanence  by  bodies 
and  change  by  homogeneous  movements  in  space  ? 
This  is  no  teaching  of  immediate  intuition  ; but 
neither  is  it  a demand  of  science,  for  the  object 
of  science  is,  on  the  contrary,  to  rediscover  the 
natural  articulations  of  a universe  we  have  carved 
artificially.  Nay  more,  science,  as  we  shall  see, 
by  an  evermore  complete  demonstration  of  the 
reciprocal  action  of  all  material  points  upon  each 
other,  returns,  in  spite  of  appearances,  to  the  idea 
of  an  universal  continuity.  Science  and  conscious- 
ness are  agreed  at  bottom,  provided  that  we  re- 
gard consciousness  in  its  most  immediate  data,  f 
and  science  in  its  remotest  aspirations.  Whence  i 
comes  then  the  irresistible  tendency  to  set  up  a o 
material  universe  that  is  discontinuous,  composed  li 


CHAP.  IV 


PERCEPTION  AND  MATTER 


261 


of  bodies  which  have  clearly  defined  outlines  and 
change  their  place,  that  is,  their  relation  with 
each  other  ? 

Besides  consciousness  and  science,  there  is  life. 
Beneath  the  principles  of  speculation,  so  carefully 
it  is  the  analysed  by  philosophers,  there  are  ten- 
of  living,  dencies  of  which  the  study  has  been  neg- 
t'hat  mark  *’  lected,  and  which  are  to  be  explained 
consciousness  simply  by  the  necessity  of  living,  that 
bodies,  is,  of  acting.  Already  the  power  con- 
ferred on  the  individual  consciousness  of  mani- 
festing itself  in  acts  requires  the  formation 
of  distinct  material  zones,  which  correspond  re- 
spectively to  living  bodies  : in  this  sense  my  own 
body  and,  by  analogy  with  it,  all  other  living 
bodies  are  those  which  I have  the  most  right 
to  distinguish  in  the  continuity  of  the  universe. 
But  this  body  itself,  as  soon  as  it  is  constituted 
and  distinguished,  is  led  by  its  various  needs 
to  distinguish  and  constitute  other  bodies.  In 
the  humblest  living  being  nutrition  demands 
research,  then  contact,  in  short  a series  of  efforts 
which  converge  towards  a centre  : this  centre  is 
just  what  is  made  into  an  object — the  object 
which  will  serve  as  food.  Whatever  be  the 
nature  of  matter,  it  may  be  said  that  life  will 
at  once  establish  in  it  a primary  discontinuity, 
expressing  the  duality  of  the  need  and  of  that 
which  must  serve  to  satisfy  it.  But  the  need 
of  food  is  not  the  only  need.  Others  group 
themselves  round  it,  all  having  for  object  the 


262 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP. IV 


conservation  of  the  individual  or  of  the  spe- 
cies ; and  each  of  them  leads  us  to  distin- 
guish, besides  our  own  body,  bodies  inde- 
pendent of  it  which  we  must  seek  or  avoid.  Our 
needs  are,  then,  so  many  search-lights  which, 
directed  upon  the  continuity  of  sensible  qualities, 
single  out  in  it  distinct  bodies.  They  cannot 
satisfy  themselves  except  upon  the  condition  that 
they  carve  out,  within  this  continuity,  a body 
which  is  to  be  their  own,  and  then  delimit 
other  bodies  with  which  the  first  can  enter  into 
relation,  as  if  with  persons.  To  estabhsh  these 
special  relations  among  portions  thus  carved  out 
from  sensible  reality  is  just  what  we  call  living. 

But  if  this  first  subdivision  of  the  real  answers 
much  less  to  immediate  intuition  than  to  the 
But,  to  get  a fundamental  needs  of  life,  are  we  likely 
theory°Phical  g^11  a nearer  knowledge  of  things  by 
we  must  reject  pushing  the  division  yet  further  ? In  this 
imagesary  way  we  do  indeed  prolong  the  vital  mo  ve- 
rtical17 nient ; but  we  turn  our  back  upon  true 
needs.  knowledge.  That  is  why  the  rough  and 
ready  operation,  which  consists  in  decomposing 
the  body  into  parts  of  the  same  nature  as  itself, 
leads  us  down  a blind  alley,  where  we  soon  feel 
ourselves  incapable  of  conceiving  either  why 
this  division  should  cease  or  how  it  could  go 
on  ad  infinitum.  It  is  nothing,  in  fact,  but  the 
ordinary  condition  of  useful  action,  unsuitably 
transported  into  the  domain  of  pure  know- 
ledge. We  shall  never  explain  by  means  of 


CHAP,  rv 


PERCEPTION  AND  MATTER 


263 


particles,  whatever  these  may  be,  the  simple  pro- 
perties of  matter  : at  most  we  can  thus  follow 
out  into  corpuscles  as  artificial  as  the  corpus — 
the  body  itself — the  actions  and  reactions  of  this 
body  with  regard  to  all  the  others.  This  is  pre- 
cisely the  object  of  chemistry.  It  studies  bodies 
rather  than  matter  ; and  so  we  understand  why 
it  stops  at  the  atom,  which  is  still  endowed  with 
the  general  properties  of  matter.  But  the  ma- 
teriality of  the  atom  dissolves  more  and  more 
under  the  eyes  of  the  physicist.  We  have  no 
reason,  for  instance,  for  representing  the  atom 
to  ourselves  as  a solid,  rather  than  as  liquid  or 
gaseous,  nor  for  picturing  the  reciprocal  action  of 
atoms  by  shocks  rather  than  in  any  other  way. 
Why  do  we  think  of  a solid  atom,  and  why  of 
shocks  ? Because  solids,  being  the  bodies  on 
which  we  clearly  have  the  most  hold,  are  those 
which  interest  us  most  in  our  relations  with  the 
external  world  ; and  because  contact  is  the  only 
means  which  appears  to  be  at  our  disposal  in 
order  to  make  our  body  act  upon  other  bodies. 
But  very  simple  experiments  show  that  there  is 
never  true  contact  between  two  neighbouring 
bodies  1 ; and  besides,  solidity  is  far  from  being 
an  absolutely  defined  state  of  matter.2  Solidity 
and  shock  borrow,  then,  their  apparent  clearness 

1 See,  on  this  subject,  Clerk-Maxwell,  A ction  at  a Distance 
( Scientific  Papers , Cambridge,  1890,  vol.  ii,  pp.  313-314). 

2 Clerk-Maxwell,  Molecular  Constitution  of  Bodies  ( Scientific 
Papers,  vol.  ii,  p.  618). — Van  der  Waals  has  shown,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  continuity  of  liquid  and  gaseous  states. 


264 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


from  the  habits  and  necessities  of  practical  life  ; — 
images  of  this  kind  throw  no  light  on  the  inner 
nature  of  things. 

Moreover,  if  there  is  a truth  that  science  has 
placed  beyond  dispute,  it  is  that  of  the  reciprocal 
action  of  all  parts  of  matter  upon  each  other. 
Between  the  supposed  molecules  of  bodies  the 
forces  of  attraction  and  repulsion  are  at  work. 
The  influence  of  gravitation  extends  throughout 
interplanetary  space.  Something,  then,  exists  be- 
tween the  atoms.  It  will  be  said  that  this  some- 
thing is  no  longer  matter,  but  force.  And  we 
shall  be  asked  to  picture  to  ourselves,  stretched 
between  the  atoms,  threads  which  will  be  made 
more  and  more  tenuous,  until  they  are  invisi- 
ble and  even,  we  are  told,  immaterial.  But 
what  purpose  can  this  crude  image  serve  ? 
The  preservation  of  life  no  doubt  requires  that 
we  should  distinguish,  in  our  daily  experience, 
between  passive  things  and  actions  effected  by 
these  things  in  space.  As  it  is  useful  to  us  to  fix 
the  seat  of  the  thing  at  the  precise  point  where  we 
might  touch  it,  its  palpable  outlines  become  for 
us  its  real  limit,  and  we  then  see  in  its  action  a 
something,  I know  not  what,  which,  being  altogether 
different,  can  part  company  with  it.  But  since  a 
theory  of  matter  is  an  attempt  to  find  the  reality 
hidden  beneath  these  customary  images  which  are 
entirely  relative  to  our  needs,  from  these  images 
it  must  first  of  all  set  itself  free.  And,  indeed,  we 
see  force  and  matter  drawing  nearer  together  the 


chap,  iv  PERCEPTION  AND  MATTER  265 

more  deeply  the  physicist  has  penetrated  into  their 
effects.  We  see  force  more  and  more  materialized, 
the  atom  more  and  more  idealized,  the  two  terms 
converging  towards  a common  limit  and  the  uni- 
verse thus  recovering  its  continuity.  We  may  still 
speak  of  atoms  ; the  atom  may  even  retain  its 
individuality  for  our  mind  which  isolates  it  ; but 
the  solidity  and  the  inertia  of  the  atom  dissolve 
either  into  movements  or  into  lines  of  force  whose 
reciprocal  solidarity  brings  back  to  us  universal 
continuity.  To  this  conclusion  were  bound  to 
come,  though  they  started  from  very  different 
positions,  the  two  physicists  of  the  last  century 
who  have  most  closely  investigated  the  consti- 
tution of  matter,  Lord  Kelvin  and  Faraday. 
For  Faraday  the  atom  is  a centre  of  force.  He 
means  by  this  that  the  individuality  of  the  atom 
consists  in  the  mathematical  point  at  which  cross, 
radiating  throughout  space,  the  indefinite  lines 
of  force  which  really  constitute  it  : thus  each 
atom  occupies  the  whole  space  to  which  gravita- 
tion extends  and  all  atoms  are  interpenetrating.1 
Lord  Kelvin,  moving  in  another  order  of  ideas, 
supposes  a perfect,  continuous,  homogeneous  and 
incompressible  fluid,  filling  space  : what  we  term 
an  atom  he  makes  into  a vortex  ring,  ever  whirl- 
ing in  this  continuity,  and  owing  its  properties  to 
its  circular  form,  its  existence  and  consequently 

1 Faraday,  A Speculation  concerning  Electric  Conduction 
( Philos . Magazine,  3rd  series,  vol.  xxiv). 


266 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


its  individuality  to  its  motion.1  But  on  either 
hypothesis,  the  nearer  we  draw  to  the  ultimate 
elements  of  matter  the  better  we  note  the  van- 
ishing of  that  discontinuity  which  our  senses  per- 
ceived on  the  surface.  Psychological  analysis  has 
already  revealed  to  us  that  this  discontinuity 
is  relative  to  our  needs  : every  philosophy  of 
nature  ends  by  finding  it  incompatible  with  the 
general  properties  of  matter. 

In  truth,  vortices  and  lines  of  force  are  never, 
to  the  mind  of  the  physicist,  more  than  convenient 
figures  for  illustrating  his  calculations.  But  philo- 
sophy is  bound  to  ask  why  these  symbols  are  more 
convenient  than  others,  and  why  they  permit  of 
further  advance.  Could  we,  working  with  them, 
get  back  to  experience,  if  the  notions  to  which 
they  correspond  did  not  at  least  point  out  the 
direction  in  which  we  may  seek  for  a representa- 
tion of  the  real  ? Now  the  direction  which  they 
indicate  is  obvious  ; they  show  us,  pervading 
concrete  extensity,  modifications,  perturbations, 
changes  of  tension  or  of  energy,  and  nothing  else. 
It  is  by  this,  above  all,  that  they  tend  to  unite 
with  the  purely  psychological  analysis  of  motion 
which  we  considered  to  begin  with,  an  analysis 
which  presented  it  to  us  not  as  a mere  change  of 
relation  between  objects  to  which  it  was,  as  it 

1 Thomson,  On  Vortex  Atoms  { Pros . of  the  Roy.  Soc.  of 
Edin.,  1867).  An  hypothesis  of  the  same  nature  had  been 
put  forward  by  Graham,  On  the  Molecular  Mobility  of  Gases 
(Proc.  of  the  Roy.  Soc.,  1863,  p.  6?,i  et  seq.). 


CHAP.  IV 


DURATION  AND  TENSION 


267 


were,  an  accidental  addition,  but  as  a true  and, 
in  some  sort,  an  independent,  reality.  Neither 
science  nor  consciousness,  then,  is  opposed  to 
this  last  proposition  : — 


So  we  shall 
see  real 
movement  as 
rather 

quality  than 
quantity, 
and,  as  such, 
akin  to 
consciousness 


IV.  Real  movement  is  rather  the  transference  of 
a state  than  of  a thing. 

By  formulating  these  four  propositions,  we 
have,  in  reality,  only  been  progressively  narrowing 
the  interval  between  the  two  terms 
which  it  is  usual  to  oppose  to  each 
other, — qualities  or  sensations,  and 
movements.  At  first  sight,  the  distance 
appears  impassable.  Qualities  are 
heterogeneous,  movements  homogene- 
ous. Sensations,  essentially  indivisible,  escape 
measurement  ; movements,  always  divisible,  are 
distinguished  by  calculable  differences  of  direction 
and  velocity.  We  are  fain  to  put  qualities,  in  the 
form  of  sensations,  in  consciousness  ; while  move- 
ments are  supposed  to  take  place  independently 
of  us  in  space.  These  movements,  compounded 
together,  we  confess,  will  never  yield  anything 
but  movements  ; our  consciousness,  though  in- 
capable of  coming  into  touch  with  them,  yet  by  a 
mysterious  process  is  said  to  translate  them  into 
sensations,  which  afterwards  project  themselves 
into  space  and  come  to  overlie,  we  know  not  how, 
the  movements  they  translate.  Hence  two  differ- 
ent worlds,  incapable  of  communicating  otherwise 
than  by  a miracle, — on  the  one  hand  that  of  motion 


268 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap,  nr 


in  space,  on  the  other  that  of  consciousness  with 
sensations.  Now,  certainly  the  difference  is  irre- 
ducible (as  we  have  shown  in  an  earlier  work  x) 
between  quality  on  the  one  hand  and  pure  quan- 
tity on  the  other.  But  this  is  just  the  question : 
do  real  movements  present  merely  differences  of 
quantity,  or  are  they  not  quality  itself,  vibra- 
ting, so  to  speak,  internally,  and  beating  time 
for  its  own  existence  through  an  often  incal- 
culable number  of  moments  ? Motion,  as  studied 
in  mechanics,  is  but  an  abstraction  or  a sym- 
bol, a common  measure,  a common  denomina- 
tor, permitting  the  comparison  of  all  real  move- 
ments with  each  other  ; but  these  movements, 
regarded  in  themselves,  are  indivisibles  which 
occupy  duration,  involve  a before  and  an  after, 
and  link  together  the  successive  moments  of  time 
by  a thread  of  variable  quality  which  cannot  be 
without  some  likeness  to  the  continuity  of  our 
own  consciousness.  May  we  not  conceive,  for 
instance,  that  the  irreducibility  of  two  perceived 
colours  is  due  mainly  to  the  narrow  duration  into 
which  are  contracted  the  billions  of  vibrations 
which  they  execute  in  one  of  our  moments  ? If 
we  could  stretch  out  this  duration,  that  is  to  say, 
live  it  at  a slower  rhythm,  should  we  not,  as  the 
rhythm  slowed  down,  see  these  colours  pale  and 
lengthen  into  successive  impressions,  still  coloured, 
no  doubt,  but  nearer  and  nearer  to  coincidence 


1 H.  Bergson,  Time  and  Free  Will.  Sonnenscliein  & Co. 


CHAP.  IV 


DURATION  AND  TENSION 


269 


with  pure  vibrations  ? In  cases  where  the  rhythm 
of  the  movement  is  slow  enough  to  tally  with 
the  habits  of  our  consciousness, — as  in  the  case  of 
the  deep  notes  of  the  musical  scale,  for  instance, — 
do  we  not  feel  that  the  quality  perceived  analyses 
itself  into  repeated  and  successive  vibrations, 
bound  together  by  an  inner  continuity  ? That 
which  usually  hinders  this  mutual  approach  of 
motion  and  quality  is  the  acquired  habit  of  attach- 
ing movement  to  elements — atoms  or  what  not, — 
which  interpose  their  solidity  between  the  move- 
ment itself  and  the  quality  into  which  it  contracts. 
As  our  daily  experience  shows  us  bodies  in  motion, 
it  appears  to  us  that  there  ought  to  be,  in  order 
to  sustain  the  elementary  movements  to  which 
qualities  may  be  reduced,  diminutive  bodies  or 
corpuscles.  Motion  becomes  then  for  our  imagin- 
ation no  more  than  an  accident,  a series  of  posi- 
tions, a change  of  relations  ; and,  as  it  is  a law 
of  our  representation  that  in  it  the  stable  drives 
away  the  unstable,  the  important  and  central 
element  for  us  becomes  the  atom,  between  the 
successive  positions  of  which  movement  then  be- 
comes a mere  link.  But  not  only  has  this  concep- 
tion the  inconvenience  of  merely  parrying  over  to 
the  atom  all  the  problems  raised  by  matter  ; not  only 
does  it  wrongly  set  up  as  an  absolute  that  division 
of  matter  which,  in  our  view,  is  hardly  anything 
but  an  outward  projection  of  human  needs  ; it 
also  renders  unintelligible  the  process  by  which  we 
grasp,  in  perception,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  a 


270 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


state  of  our  consciousness  and  a reality  independent 
of  ourselves.  This  mixed  character  of  our  imme- 
diate perception,  this  appearance  of  a realized 
contradiction,  is  the  principal  theoretical  reason 
that  we  have  for  believing  in  an  external  world 
which  does  not  coincide  absolutely  with  our  per- 
ception. As  it  is  overlooked  in  the  doctrine  that 
regards  sensation  as  entirely  heterogeneous  with 
movements,  of  which  sensation  is  then  supposed 
to  be  only  a translation  into  the  language  of 
consciousness,  this  doctrine  ought,  it  would  seem, 
to  confine  itself  to  sensations,  which  it  had  indeed 
begun  by  setting  up  as  the  actual  data,  and 
not  add  to  them  movements  which,  having  no 
possible  contact  with  them,  are  no  longer  any- 
thing but  their  useless  duplicate.  Realism,  so 
understood,  is  self-destructive.  Indeed,  we  have 
no  choice  : if  our  belief  in  a more  or  less  homo- 
geneous substratum  of  sensible  qualities  has  any 
ground,  this  can  only  be  found  in  an  act  which 
makes  us  seize  or  divine,  in  quality  itself,  some- 
thing which  goes  beyond  sensation,  as  if  this  sensa- 
tion itself  were  pregnant  with  details  suspected  yet 
unperceived  Its  objectivity — that  is  to  say,  what 
it  contains  over  and  above  what  it  yields  up — 
must  then  consist,  as  we  have  foreshadowed,  pre- 
cisely in  the  immense  multiplicity  of  the  move- 
ments which  it  executes,  so  to  speak,  within  itself 
as  a chrysalis.  Motionless  on  the  surface,  in  its 
very  depth  it  lives  and  vibrates. 

As  a matter  of  fact,  no  one  represents  to  himself 


CHAP.  IV 


DURATION  AND  TENSION 


271 


the  relation  between  quantity  and  quality  in  any 
wwist  in  other  way.  To  believe  in  realities,  dis- 
w^may  'divine  tmd  from  that  which  is  perceived,  is 


above  all  to  recognize  that  the  order 


something 
other  than 

ie?sthe°mui-  our  perceptions  depends  on  them 
afmove-  and  not  on  us.  There  must  be,  then, 


teMtedCinnthe  within  the  perceptions  which  fill  a 
onfown0*  given  moment,  the  reason  of  what  will 
duration.  happen  in  the  following  moment.  And 
mechanism  only  formulates  this  belief  with  more 
precision  when  it  affirms  that  the  states  of  matter 
can  be  deduced  one  from  the  other.  It  is  true 
that  this  deduction  is  possible  only  if  we  discover, 
beneath  the  apparent  heterogeneity  of  sensible 
qualities,  homogeneous  elements  wnich  lend  them- 
selves to  calculation.  But,  on  fhe  other  hand,  if 
these  elements  are  external  to  the  qualities  of 
which  they  are  meant  to  explain  the  regular 
order,  they  can  no  longer  render  the  service  de- 
manded of  them,  because  then  the  qualities  must 
be  supposed  to  come  to  overlie  them  by  a kind  of 
miracle,  and  cannot  correspond  to  them  unless  we 
bring  in  some  pre-established  harmony.  So,  do 
what  we  will,  we  cannot  avoid  placing  those 
movements  within  these  qualities,  in  the  form  of 
internal  vibrations,  and  then  considering  the  vibra- 
tions as  less  homogeneous,  and  the  qualities  as 
less  heterogeneous,  than  they  appear,  and  lastly 
attributing  the  difference  of  aspect  in  the  two 
terms  to  the  necessity  which  lies  upon  what  may 
be  called  an  endless  multiplicity  of  contracting 


272 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


There  may 
be  as  many 
tensions  of 
duration  as 
there  are 
degrees  of 
conscious- 
ness. 


into  a duration  too  narrow  to  permit  of  the 
separation  of  its  moments. 

We  must  insist  on  this  last  point,  to  which  we 
have  already  alluded  elsewhere,  and  which  we 
regard  as  essential.  The  duration  lived 
by  our  consciousness  is  a duration  with 
its  own  determined  rhythm,  a duration 
very  different  from  the  time  of  the  phy- 
sicist, which  can  store  up,  in  a given  in- 
terval, as  great  a number  of  phenomena  as  we 
please.  In  the  space  of  a second,  red  light, — 
the  light  which  has  the  longest  wave-length, 
and  of  which,  consequently,  the  vibrations  are 
the  least  frequent — accomplishes  400  billions  of 
successive  vibrations.  If  we  would  form  some 
idea  of  this  number,  we  should  have  to  separ- 
ate the  vibrations  sufficiently  to  allow  our  con- 
sciousness to  count  them,  or  at  least  to  record 
explicitly  their  succession  ; and  we  should  then 
have  to  enquire  how  many  days  or  months  or 
years  this  succession  would  occupy.  Now  the 
smallest  interval  of  empty  time  which  we  can 
detect  equals,  according  to  Exner,  ^ of  a second  ; 
and  it  is  even  doubtful  whether  we  can  per- 
ceive  in  succession  several  intervals  as  short  as 
this.  Let  us  admit,  however,  that  we  can  go  on 
doing  so  indefinitely.  Let  us  imagine,  in  a word, 
a consciousness  which  should  watch  the  succession 
of  400  billions  of  vibrations,  each  instantaneous, 
and  each  separated  from  the  next  only  by  the 
of  a second  necessary  to  distinguish  them. 


CHAP.  IV 


DURATION  AND  TENSION 


273 


A very  simple  calculation  shows  that  more  than 
25,000  years  would  elapse  before  the  conclusion 
of  the  operation.  Thus  the  sensation  of  red  light, 
experienced  by  us  in  the  course  of  a second,  cor- 
responds in  itself  to  a succession  of  phenomena 
which,  separately  distinguished  in  our  duration 
with  the  greatest  possible  economy  of  time,  would 
occupy  more  than  250  centuries  of  our  history. 
Is  this  conceivable  ? We  must  distinguish  here 
between  our  own  duration  and  time  in  general 
In  our  duration, — the  duration  which  our  con- 
sciousness perceives, — a given  interval  can  only 
contain  a limited  number  of  phenomena  of  which 
we  are  aware.  Do  we  conceive  that  this  content 
can  increase  ; and  when  we  speak  of  an  infi- 
nitely divisible  time,  is  it  our  own  duration  that 
we  are  thinking  of  ? 

As  long  as  we  are  dealing  with  space,  we  may 
carry  the  division  as  far  as  we  please  ; we  change 
in  no  way,  thereby,  the  nature  of  what  is  divided. 
This  is  because  space,  by  definition,  is  outside  us  ; 
it  is  because  a part  of  space  appears  to  us  to  sub- 
sist even  when  we  cease  to  be  concerned  with  it  ; 
so  that,  even  when  we  leave  it  undivided,  we  know 
that  it  can  wait,  and  that  a new  effort  of  our 
imagination  may  decompose  it  when  we  choose. 
As,  moreover,  it  never  ceases  to  be  space,  it  always 
implies  juxtaposition  and  consequently  possible 
division.  Abstract  space  is,  indeed,  at  bottom,  no- 
thing but  the  mental  diagram  of  infinite  divisibility. 
But  with  duration  it  is  quite  otherwise.  The  parts  of 


274 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


our  duration  are  one  with  the  successive  moments  of 
the  act  which  divides  it ; if  we  distinguish  in  it  so 
many  instants,  so  many  parts  it  indeed  possesses ; 
and  if  our  consciousness  can  only  distinguish  in  a 
given  interval  a definite  number  of  elementary 
acts,  if  it  terminates  the  division  at  a given 
point,  there  also  terminates  the  divisibility.  In 
vain  does  our  imagination  endeavour  to  go  on,  to 
carry  division  further  still,  and  to  quicken,  so  to 
speak,  the  circulation  of  our  inner  phenomena  : 
the  very  effort  by  which  we  are  trying  to  effect 
this  further  division  of  our  duration  lengthens 
that  duration  by  just  so  much.  And  yet  we 
know  that  millions  of  phenomena  succeed  each 
other  while  we  hardly  succeed  in  counting  a few. 
We  know  this  not  from  physics  alone  ; the  crude 
experience  of  the  senses  allows  us  to  divine  it ; 
we  are  dimly  aware  of  successions  in  nature 
much  more  rapid  than  those  of  our  internal  states. 
How  are  we  to  conceive  them,  and  what  is  this 
duration  of  which  the  capacity  goes  beyond  all 
our  imagination  ? 

It  is  not  ours,  assuredly  ; but  neither  is  it  that 
homogeneous  and  impersonal  duration,  the  same 
for  everything  and  for  every  one,  which  flows 
onward,  indifferent  and  void,  external  to  all  that 
endures.  This  imaginary  homogeneous  time  is, 
as  we  have  endeavoured  to  show  elsewhere,1  an 
idol  of  language,  a fiction  of  which  the  origin  is 

1 H.  Bergson,  Time  and  Free  Will.  Sonnenschejn  & Co. 


CHAP.  IV 


DURATION  AND  TENSION 


275 


easy  to  discover.  In  reality  there  is  no  one 
rhythm  of  duration  ; it  is  possible  to  imagine 
many  different  rhythms  which,  slower  or  faster, 
measure  the  degree  of  tension  or  relaxation  of 
different  kinds  of  consciousness,  and  thereby  fix 
their  respective  places  in  the  scale  of  being.  To 
conceive  of  durations  of  different  tensions  is  per- 
haps both  difficult  and  strange  to  our  mind,  be- 
cause we  have  acquired  the  useful  habit  of  sub- 
stituting for  the  true  duration,  lived  by  conscious- 
ness, an  homogeneous  and  independent  Time ; 
but,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  easy,  as  we  have  shown, 
to  detect  the  illusion  which  renders  such  a 
thought  foreign  to  us,  and,  secondly,  this  idea 
has  in  its  favour,  at  bottom,  the  tacit  agreement 
of  our  consciousness.  Do  we  not  sometimes  per- 
ceive in  ourselves,  in  sleep,  two  contemporaneous 
and  distinct  persons  of  whom  one  sleeps  a few 
minutes,  while  the  other’s  dream  fills  days  and 
weeks  ? And  would  not  the  whole  of  history  be 
contained  in  a very  short  time  for  a conscious- 
ness at  a higher  degree  of  tension  than  our  own, 
which  should  watch  the  development  of  human- 
ity while  contracting  it,  so  to  speak,  into  the 
great  phases  of  its  evolution  ? In  short,  then, 
to  perceive  consists  in  condensing  enormous 
periods  of  an  infinitely  diluted  existence  into  a 
few  more  differentiated  moments  of  an  intenser 
life,  and  in  thus  summing  up  a very  long  history. 
To  perceive  means  to  immobilize. 

To  say  this  is  to  say  that  we  seize,  in  the 


276 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


Our 

conscious- 
ness sums  up 
for  us 


act  of  perception,  something  which  outruns  per- 
ception itself,  although  the  material 
universe  is  not  essentially  different  or 
who^e  periods  distinct  from  the  representation  which 
history "o?61  we  have  of  it.  In  one  sense,  my  per- 
things.  ception  is  indeed  truly  within  me,  since 
it  contracts  into  a single  moment  of  my  duration 
that  which,  taken  in  itself,  spreads  over  an 
incalculable  number  of  moments.  But,  if  you 
abolish  my  consciousness,  the  material  universe 
subsists  exactly  as  it  was  ; only,  since  you  have 
removed  that  particular  rhythm  of  duration 
which  was  the  condition  of  my  action  upon  things, 
these  things  draw  back  into  themselves,  mark 
as  many  moments  in  their  own  existence  as  science 
distinguishes  in  it ; and  sensible  qualities,  with- 
out vanishing,  are  spread  and  diluted  in  an  in- 
comparably more  divided  duration.  Matter  thus 
resolves  itself  into  numberless  vibrations,  all 
linked  together  in  uninterrupted  continuity,  all 
bound  up  with  each  other,  and  travelling  in  every 
direction  like  shivers  through  an  immense  body. — 
In  short,  try  first  to  connect  together  the  dis- 
continuous objects  of  daily  experience ; then 
resolve  the  motionless  continuity  of  their  qualities 
into  vibrations  on  the  spot  ; finally  fix  your  at- 
tention on  these  movements,  by  abstracting  from 
the  divisible  space  which  underlies  them  and 
considering  only  their  mobility  (that  undivided 
act  which  our  consciousness  becomes  aware  of 
in  our  own  movements) : you  will  thus  obtain  a 


CHAP.  IV 


DURATION  AND  TENSION 


277 


vision  of  matter,  fatiguing  perhaps  for  your  ima- 
gination, but  pure,  and  freed  from  all  that  the 
exigencies  of  life  compel  you  to  add  to  it  in 
external  perception. — Now  bring  back  conscious- 
ness, and  with  it  the  exigencies  of  life : at  long, 
very  long,  intervals,  and  by  as  many  leaps  over 
enormous  periods  of  the  inner  history  of  things, 
quasi-instantaneous  views  will  be  taken,  views 
which  this  time  are  bound  to  be  pictorial,  and 
of  which  the  more  vivid  colours  will  condense  an 
infinity  of  elementary  repetitions  and  changes. 
In  just  the  same  way  the  multitudinous  successive 
positions  of  a runner  are  contracted  into  a single 
symbolic  attitude,  which  our  eyes  perceive,  which 
art  reproduces,  and  which  becomes  for  us  all  the 
image  of  a man  running.  The  glance  which  falls 
at  any  moment  on  the  things  about  us  only  takes 
in  the  effects  of  a multiplicity  of  inner  repetitions 
and  evolutions,  effects  which  are,  for  that  very 
reason,  discontinuous,  and  into  which  we  bring 
back  continuity  by  the  relative  movements  that 
we  attribute  to  ‘objects  ’ in  space.  The  change 
is  everywhere,  but  inward  ; we  localize  it  here 
and  there,  but  outwardly  ; and  thus  we  consti- 
tute bodies  which  are  both  stable  as  to  their 
qualities  and  mobile  as  to  their  positions,  a mere 
change  of  place  summing  up  in  itself,  to  our 
eyes,  the  universal  transformation. 

That  there  are,  in  a sense,  multiple  objects,  that 
one  man  is  distinct  from  another  man,  tree 
from  tree,  stone  from  stone,  is  an  indisputable 


278 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  XV. 


fact;  for  each  of  these  beings,  each  of  these 
Necessity  things,  has  characteristic  properties  and 
be1ngdthatea  obeys  a determined  law  of  evolution, 
therhythm  at  But  the  separation  between  a thing  and 
otematterion  environment  cannot  be  absolutely 
t^atCduiaSonS  definite  and  clear  cut ; there  is  a passage 
wtoonJuT  By  insensible  gradations  from  the  one  to 
necessity,  the  other  : the  close  solidarity  which  binds 
all  the  objects  of  the  material  universe, the  perpetu- 
ity of  their  reciprocal  actions  and  reactions,  is  suffi- 
cient to  prove  that  they  have  not  the  precise 
limits  which  we  attribute  to  them.  Our  per- 
ception outlines,  so  to  speak,  the  form  of  their 
nucleus  ; it  terminates  them  at  the  point  where 
our  possible  action  upon  them  ceases,  where, 
consequently,  they  cease  to  interest  our  needs. 
Such  is  the  primary  and  the  most  apparent  opera- 
tion of  the  perceiving  mind  : it  marks  out  divi- 
sions in  the  continuity  of  the  extended,  simply 
following  the  suggestions  of  our  requirement  and 
the  needs  of  practical  life.  But,  in  order  to  divide 
the  real  in  this  manner,  we  must  first  persuade 
ourselves  that  the  real  is  divisible  at  will.  Conse- 
quently we  must  throw  beneath  the  continuity 
of  sensible  qualities,  that  is  to  say,  beneath  con- 
crete extensity,  a network,  of  which  the  meshes 
may  be  altered  to  any  shape  whatsoever  and 
become  as  small  as  we  please  : this  substra- 
tum which  is  merely  conceived,  this  wholly 
ideal  diagram  of  arbitrary  and  infinite  divisi- 
bility, is  homogeneous  space. — Now,  at  the  same 


CHAP.  IV 


EXTENSITY  AND  EXTENSION 


279 


time  that  our  actual  and  so  to  speak  instan- 
taneous perception  effects  this  division  of  matter 
into  independent  objects,  our  memory  solidifies 
into  sensible  qualities  the  continuous  flow  of 
things.  It  prolongs  the  past  into  the  present, 
because  our  action  will  dispose  of  the  future  in 
the  exact  proportion  in  which  our  perception, 
enlarged  by  memory,  has  contracted  the  past. 
To  reply,  to  an  action  received,  by  an  immediate 
reaction  which  adopts  the  rhythm  of  the  first 
and  continues  it  in  the  same  duration,  to  be  in 
the  present  and  in  a present  which  is  always 
beginning  again, — this  is  the  fundamental  law  of 
matter  : herein  consists  necessity.  If  there  are 
actions  that  are  really  free,  or  at  least  partly  in- 
determinate, they  can  only  belong  to  beings  able 
to  fix,  at  long  intervals,  that  becoming  to  which 
their  own  becoming  clings,  able  to  solidify  it  into 
distinct  moments,  and  so  to  condense  matter  and, 
by  assimilating  it,  to  digest  it  into  movements 
of  reaction  which  will  pass  through  the  meshes 
of  natural  necessity.  The  greater  or  less  ten- 
sion of  their  duration,  which  expresses,  at  bottom, 
their  greater  or  less  intensity  of  life,  thus  deter- 
mines both  the  degree  of  the  concentrating  power 
of  their  perception  and  the  measure  of  their  liberty. 
The  independence  of  their  action  upon  surround- 
ing matter  becomes  more  and  more  assured  in  the 
degree  that  they  free  themselves  from  the  par- 
ticular rhythm  which  governs  the  flow  of  this 
matter.  So  that  sensible  qualities,  as  they  are 


28o 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


found  in  our  memory-shot  perception,  are  in 
fact  the  successive  moments  obtained  by  a solidi- 
fication of  the  real.  But,  in  order  to  distinguish 
these  moments,  and  also  to  bind  them  together 
by  a thread  which  shall  be  common  alike  to  our 
own  existence  and  to  that  of  things,  we  are  bound 
to  imagine  a diagrammatic  design  of  succes- 
sion in  general,  an  homogeneous  and  indifferent 
medium,  which  is  to  the  flow  of  matter  in  the 
sense  of  length  as  space  is  to  it  in  the  sense  of 
breadth  : herein  consists  homogeneous  time. 

Homogeneous  space  and  homogeneous  time 
are  then  neither  properties  of  things  nor  essential 
Homogeneous  conditions  of  our  faculty  of  knowing 
tfmeVe'the  them  : they  express,  in  an  abstract 

„ form,  the  double  work  of  solidification 
Ze^^ioa  and  of  division  which  we  effect  on 
properties00*  the  moving  continuity  of  the  real  in 
of  things.  order  to  obtain  there  a fulcrum  for  our 
action,  in  order  to  fix  within  it  starting-points 
for  our  operation,  in  short,  to  introduce  into 
it  real  changes.  They  are  the  diagrammatic 
design  of  our  eventual  action  upon  matter. 
The  first  mistake,  that  which  consists  in  viewing 
this  homogeneous  time  and  space  as  properties  of 
things,  leads  to  the  insurmountable  difficulties 
of  metaphysical  dogmatism, — whether  mechan- 
istic or  dynamistic,— dynamism  erecting  into 
so  many  absolutes  the  successive  cross-cuts 
which  we  make  in  the  course  of  the  universe 
as  it  flows  along,  and  then  endeavouring  vainly 


CHAP.  IV 


EXTENSITY  AND  EXTENSION 


281 


to  bind  them  together  by  a kind  of  qualitative 
deduction  ; mechanism  attaching  itself  rather,  in 
any  one  of  these  cross-cuts,  to  the  divisions  made 
in  its  breadth,  that  is  to  say,  to  instantaneous 
differences  in  magnitude  and  position,  and  striv- 
ing no  less  vainly  to  produce,  by  the  variation  of 
these  differences,  the  succession  of  sensible  qualities. 
Shall  we  then  seek  refuge  in  the  other  hypothesis, 
and  maintain,  with  Kant,  that  space  and  time  are 
forms  of  our  sensibility  ? If  we  do,  we  shall  have 
to  look  upon  matter  and  spirit  as  equally  unknow- 
able. Now,  if  we  compare  these  two  hypotheses, 
we  discover  in  them  a common  basis  : by  setting 
up  homogeneous  time  and  homogeneous  space 
either  as  realities  that  are  contemplated  or  as  forms 
of  contemplation,  they  both  attribute  to  space 
and  time  an  interest  which  is  speculative  rather 
than  vital.  Hence  there  is  room,  between  meta- 
physical dogmatism  on  the  one  hand  and  critical 
philosophy  on  the  other,  for  a doctrine  which 
regards  homogeneous  space  and  time  as  princi- 
ples of  division  and  of  solidification  introduced 
into  the  real  with  a view  to  action  and  not  with  a 
view  to  knowledge,  which  attributes  to  things  a 
real  duration  and  a real  extensity,  and  which, 
in  the  end,  sees  the  source  of  all  difficulty  no 
longer  in  that  duration  and  in  that  extensity 
(which  really  belong  to  things  and  are  directly 
manifest  to  the  mind),  but  in  the  homogeneous 
space  and  time  which  we  stretch  out  beneath 
them  in  order  to  divide  the  continuous,  to  fix  the 


2 82 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


Qualities  of 
different 
orders  share 
in  extensity, 
though  in 
different 
degrees. 


becoming,  and  provide  our  activity  with  points 
to  which  it  can  be  applied. 

But  erroneous  conceptions  about  sensible  quality 
and  about  space  are  so  deeply  rooted  in  the  mind 
that  it  is  important  to  attack  them 
from  every  side.  We  may  say  then, 
to  reveal  yet  another  aspect,  that  they 
imply  this  double  postulate,  accepted 
equally  by  realism  and  by  idealism  : 
first,  that  between  different  kinds  of  qualities  there 
is  nothing  common  ; second,  that  neither  is  there 
anything  common  between  extensity  and  pure 
quality.  We  maintain,  on  the  contrary,  that 
there  is  something  common  between  qualities  of 
different  orders,  that  they  all  share  in  extensity, 
though  in  different  degrees,  and  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  overlook  these  two  truths  without 
entangling  in  a thousand  difficulties  the  meta- 
physic of  matter,  the  -psychology  of  perception 
and,  more  generally,  the  problem  of  the  relation 
of  consciousness  with  matter.  Without  insisting 
on  these  consequences,  let  us  content  ourselves 
for  the  moment  with  showing,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  various  theories  of  matter,  the  two  postulates 
which  we  dispute  and  the  illusion  from  which 
they  proceed. 

The  essence  of  English  idealism  is  to  regard 
extensity  as  a property  of  tactile  perceptions. 
As  it  sees  nothing  in  sensible  qualities  but  sen- 
sations, and  in  sensations  themselves  nothing  but 
mental  states,  it  finds  in  the  different  qualities 


chap,  iv  EXTENSITY  AND  EXTENSION  283 

nothing  on  which  to  base  the  parallelism  of 
idealism  and  their  phenomena.  It  is  therefore  con- 

realism  both  , • 1 , . r 

regard  the  strained  to  account  tor  this  parallelism 
orders  of  by  a habit  which  makes  the  actual  per- 

sensation  as  . . . . . . 

discontinuous,  ceptions  of  sight,  lor  instance,  suggest 
the  true  to  us  potential  sensations  of  touch.  If 
perception,  the  impressions  of  two  different  senses 
resemble  each  other  no  more  than  the  words 

of  two  languages,  we  shall  seek  in  vain  to  de- 
duce the  data  of  the  one  from  the  data  of  the 
other.  They  have  no  common  element ; and 
consequently,  there  is  nothing  common  between 
extensity,  which  is  always  tactile,  and  the  data 
of  the  senses  other  than  that  of  touch,  which 
must  then  be  supposed  to  be  in  no  way  extended. 

But  neither  can  atomistic  realism,  which  locates 
movements  in  space  and  sensations  in  conscious- 
ness, discover  anything  in  common  between  the 
modifications  or  phenomena  of  extensity  and  the 
sensations  which  correspond  to  them.  Sensations 
are  supposed  to  issue  from  the  modifications  as 
a kind  of  phosphorescence,  or,  again,  to  translate 
into  the  language  of  the  soul  the  manifestations 
of  matter ; but  in  neither  case  do  they  re- 
flect, we  are  told,  the  image  of  their  causes.  No 
doubt  they  may  all  be  traced  to  a common  origin, 
which  is  movement  in  space  ; but,  just  because 
they  develop  outside  of  space,  they  must  forego, 
qua  sensations,  the  kinship  which  binds  their 
causes  together.  In  breaking  with  space  they 
break  also  their  connexion  with  each  other  ; they 


284 


MATTER  ANt)  MEMORY 


CHAP,  JV 


have  nothing  in  common  between  them,  nor  with 
extensity. 

Idealism  and  realism,  then,  only  differ  in  that 
the  first  relegates  extensity  to  tactile  perception, 
of  which  it  becomes  the  exclusive  property, 
while  the  second  thrusts  extensity  yet  further 
back,  outside  of  all  perception.  But  the  two 
doctrines  are  agreed  in  maintaining  the  discon- 
tinuity of  the  different  orders  of  sensible  qualities, 
and  also  the  abrupt  transition  from  that  which 
is  purely  extended  to  that  which  is  not  extended 
at  all.  Now  the  principal  difficulties  which  they 
both  encounter  in  the  theory  of  perception  arise 
from  this  common  postulate. 

For  suppose,  to  begin  with,  as  Berkeley  did, 
that  all  perception  of  extensity  is  to  be  referred 
to  the  sense  of  touch.  We  may,  indeed,  if  you 
will  have  it  so,  deny  extension  to  the  data  of 
hearing,  smell  and  taste  ; but  we  must  at  least 
explain  the  genesis  of  a visual  space  that  corre- 
sponds to  tactile  space.  It  is  alleged,  indeed,  that 
sight  ends  by  becoming  symbolic  of  touch,  and 
that  there  is  nothing  more  in  the  visual  per- 
ception of  the  order  of  things  in  space  than  a 
suggestion  of  tactile  perception.  But  we  fail  to 
understand  how  the  visual  perception  of  relief,  for 
instance,  a perception  which  makes  upon  us  an 
impress  sui  generis,  and  indeed  indescribable, 
could  ever  be  one  with  the  mere  remembrance  of 
a sensation  of  touch.  The  association  of  a mem- 
ory with  a ^present  perception  may  complicate 


CHAP,  IV 


EXTENSITY  AND  EXTENSION 


285 


this  perception  by  enriching  it  with  an  element 
already  known,  but  it  cannot  create  a new  kind 
of  impress,  a new  quality  of  perception  : now 

the  visual  perception  of  relief  presents  an  abso- 
lutely original  character.  It  may  be  urged  that 
it  is  possible  to  give  the  illusion  of  relief  with  a 
plane  surface.  This  only  proves  that  a surface, 
on  which  the  play  of  light  and  shadow  on  an 
object  in  relief  is  more  or  less  well  imitated,  is 
enough  to  remind  us  of  relief  ; but  how  could 
we  be  reminded  of  relief  if  relief  had  not  been, 
at  first,  actually  perceived  ? We  have  already 
said,  but  we  cannot  repeat  too  often,  that  our 
theories  of  perception  are  entirely  vitiated  by 
the  idea  that  if  a certain  arrangement  produces, 
at  a given  moment,  the  illusion  of  a certain 
perception,  it  must  always  have  been  able  to 
produce  the  perception  itself  ; — as  if  the  very 
function  of  memory  were  not  to  make  the 
complexity  of  the  effect  survive  the  simplifica- 
tion of  the  cause!  Again,  it  may  be  urged  that 
the  retina  itself  is  a plane  surface,  and  that  if  we 
perceive  by  sight  something  that  is  extended,  it 
I can  only  be  the  image  on  the  retina.  But  is  it 
not  true,  as  we  have  shown  at  the  beginning  of 
this  book,  that  in  the  visual  perception  of  an 
object  the  brain,  nerves,  retina  and  the  object 
itself  form  a connected  whole,  a continuous 
process  in  which  the  image  on  the  retina  is  only 
an  episode  ? By  what  right,  then,  do  we  isolate 
this  image  to  sum  up  in  it  the  whole  of  percep- 


286 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP-  IV 


tion  ? And  then,  as  we  have  also  shown,1 2 
how  could  a surface  be  perceived  as  a surface 
otherwise  than  ^in  a space  that  has  recovered 
its  three  dimensions  ? Berkeley,  at  least,  carried 
out  his  theory  to  its  conclusion  ; he  denied  to 
sight  any  perception  of  extensity.  But  the  ob- 
jections which  we  raised  only  acquire  the  more 
force  from  this,  since  it  is  impossible  to  understand 
the  spontaneous  creation,  by  a mere  association 
of  memories,  of  all  that  is  original  in  our  visual 
perceptions  of  line,  surface  and  volume,  per- 
ceptions so  distinct  that  the  mathematician  does 
not  go  beyond  them  and  works  with  a space 
that  is  purely  visual.  But  we  will  not  insist  on 
these  various  points,  nor  on  the  disputable  argu- 
ments drawn  from  the  observation  of  those,  born 
blind,  whose  sight  has  been  surgically  restored  : 
the  theory  of  the  acquired  perceptions  of  sight, 
classical  since  Berkeley’s  day,  does  not  seem  likely 
to  resist  the  multiplied  attacks  of  contemporary 
psychology.®  Passing  over  the  difficulties  of  a 
psychological  order,  we  will  content  ourselves 
with  drawing  attention  to  another  point,  in  our 
opinion  essential.  Suppose  for  a moment  that 

1 Time  and  Free  Will.  Sonnenschein  & Co.,  1910. 

2 See  on  this  subject : Paul  Janet,  La  perception  visuelle 
de  la  distance,  Revue  philosophique,  1879,  vol.  vii,  p.  1 et  seq. — 
William  James,  Principles  of  Psychology , vol.  ii,  chap.  xxii. — 
Cf.  on  the  subject  of  the  visual  perception  of  extensity : 
Dunan,  L’espace  visuel  et  I’espace  tactile  ( Revue  philosophique, 
Feb.  and  Apr.  1888,  Jan.  1889). 


chap  iv.  EXTENSITY  AND  EXTENSION  287 

the  eye  does  not,  at  the  outset,  give  us  any  informa- 
tion as  to  any  of  the  relations  of  space.  Visual 
form,  visual  relief,  visual  distance,  then  become 
the  symbols  of  tactile  perceptions.  But  how 
is  it,  then,  that  this  symbolism  succeeds  ? Here 
are  objects  which  change  their  shape  and  move. 
Vision  takes  note  of  definite  changes  which 
touch  afterwards  verifies.  There  is,  then,  in  the 
two  series,  visual  and  tactile,  or  in  their  causes, 
something  which  makes  them  correspond  one 
to  another  and  ensures  the  constancy  of  their 
parallelism.  What  is  the  principle  of  this  con- 
nexion ? 

For  English  idealism,  it  can  only  be  some  deus 
ex  machina,  and  we  are  confronted  with  a mys- 
tery again.  For  ordinary  realism,  it  is  in  a space 
distinct  from  the  sensations  themselves  that  the 
principle  of  the  correspondence  of  sensations 
one  with  another  lies ; but  this  doctrine  only 
throws  the  difficulty  further  back  and  even 
aggravates  it,  for  we  shall  now  want  to  know 
how  a system  of  homogeneous  movements 
in  space  evokes  various  sensations  which  have 
no  resemblance  whatever  with  them.  Just  now 
the  genesis  of  visual  perception  of  space  by  a 
mere  association  of  images  appeared  to  us  to 
imply  a real  creation  ex  nihilo ; here  all  the  sen- 
sations are  born  of  nothing,  or  at  least  have  no 
resemblance  with  the  movement  that  occasions 
them.  In  the  main,  this  second  theory  differs 
much  less  from  the  first  than  is  commonly  believed. 


288 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


Amorphous  space,  atoms  jostling  against  each 
other,  are  only  our  tactile  perceptions  made  ob- 
jective, set  apart  from  all  our  other  perceptions 
on  account  of  the  special  importance  which  we 
attribute  to  them,  and  made  into  independent 
realities, — thus  contrasting  with  the  other  sensa- 
tions which  are  then  supposed  to  be  only  the 
symbols  of  these.  Indeed,  in  the  course  of  this 
operation,  we  have  emptied  these  tactile  sensa- 
tions of  a part  of  their  content ; after  having 
reduced  all  other  senses  to  being  mere  appen- 
dages of  the  sense  of  touch,  touch  itself  we  mu- 
tilate, leaving  out  everything  in  it  that  is  not 
a mere  abstract  or  diagrammatic  design  of  tac- 
tile perception : with  this  design  we  then  go 
on  to  construct  the  external  world.  Can  we 
wonder  that  between  this  abstraction  on  the  one 
hand,  and  sensations  on  the  other,  no  possible 
link  is  to  be  found  ? But  the  truth  is  that 
space  is  no  more  without  us  than  within  us, 
and  that  it  does  not  belong  to  a privileged 
group  of  sensations.  All  sensations  partake  of 
extensity  ; all  are  more  or  less  deeply  rooted  in  it ; 
and  the  difficulties  of  ordinary  realism  arise  from 
the  fact  that,  the  kinship  of  the  sensations  one 
with  another  having  been  extracted  and  placed 
apart  under  the  form  of  an  indefinite  and  empty 
space,  we  no  longer  see  either  how  these  sensations 
can  partake  of  extensity  or  how  they  can  corre- 
spond with  each  other. 

Contemporary  psychology  is  more  and  more 


I 


CHAP.  IV 


EXTENSITY  AND  EXTENSION 


289 


impressed  with  the  idea  that  all  our  sensations 
But  modem  are  in  some  degree  extensive.  It  is 

psychology  • , • j . vl  4. 

has  a tendency  maintained,  not  without  an  appearance 
sensation  as  of  reason,  that  there  is  no  sensation 
extensive.  without  extensity  1 or  without  a feel- 
ing ‘ of  volume.’  2 English  idealism  sought  to 
reserve  to  tactile  perception  a monopoly  of  the 
extended,  the  other  senses  dealing  with  space  only 
in  so  far  as  they  remind  us  of  the  data  of  touch. 
A more  attentive  psychology  reveals  to  us,  on 
the  contrary,  and  no  doubt  will  hereafter  reveal 
still  more  clearly,  the  need  of  regarding  all  sensa- 
tions as  primarily  extensive,  their  extensity  facing 
and  disappearing  before  the  higher  intensity  and 
usefulness  of  tactile,  and  also,  no  doubt,  of  visual, 
extensity. 

So  understood,  space  is  indeed  the  symbol 
of  fixity  and  of  infinite  divisibility.  Concrete 
we  invert  extensity,  that  is  to  say  the  diversity  of 
we'regard  rest  sensible  qualities,  is  not  within  space  • 
anteri^to  rather  is  it  space  that  we  thrust  into 
“°the\SePceCs-  extensity.  Space  is  not  a ground  on  which 
dent  totece"  rea-l  motion  is  posited ; rather  is  it  real 
movements.  motion  that  deposits  space  I beneath  it- 
self. ) But  our  imagination,  which  is  preoccu- 

1 Ward,  Article  Psychology  in  the  Encycl.  Britamiica. 

2 W.  James,  Principles  of  Psychology,  vol.  ii,  p.  134  etseq. — 
We  may  note  in  passing  that  we  might,  in  strictness,  attribute 
this  opinion  to  Kant,  since  The  Transcendental  A Esthetic  allows 
no  difference  between  the  data  of  the  different  senses  as  far 
as  their  extension  in  space  is  concerned.  But  it  must  not  be 
forgotten  that  the  point  of  view  of  the  Critique  is  other  than 

u 


2 go 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


pied  above  all  by  the  convenience  of  expression 
and  the  exigencies  of  material  life,  prefers  to 
invert  the  natural  order  of  the  terms.  Accus- 
tomed to  seek  its  fulcrum  in  a world  of  ready- 
made motionless  images,  of  which  the  apparent 
fixity  is  hardly  anything  else  but  the  outward 
reflexion  of  the  stability  of  our  lower  needs,  it 
cannot  help  believing  that  rest  is  anterior  to 
motion,  cannot  avoid  taking  rest  as  its  point 
of  reference  and  its  abiding  place,  so  that  it 
comes  to  see  movement  as  only  a variation  of 
distance,  space  being  thus  supposed  to  precede 
motion.  Then,  in  a space  which  is  homo- 
geneous and  infinitely  divisible,  we  draw,  in 
imagination,  a trajectory  and  fix  positions : after- 
wards, applying  the  movement  to  the  trajectory, 
we  see  it  divisible  like  the  line  we  have  drawn, 
and  equally  denuded  of  quality.  Can  we  wonder 
that  our  understanding,  working  thenceforward 
on  this  idea,  which  represents  precisely  the  reverse 
of  the  truth,  discovers  in  it  nothing  but  contra- 
dictions ? Having  assimilated  movements  to  space, 
we  find  these  movements  homogeneous  like  space  ; 
and  since  we  no  longer  see  in  them  anything  but 
calculable  differences  of  direction  and  velocity,  all 
relation  between  movement  and  quality  is  for  us 
destroyed.  So  that  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  shut  up 
motion  in  space,  qualities  in  consciousness,  and 

that  of  psychology,  and  that  it  is  enough  for  its  purpose  that 
all  our  sensations  should  end  by  being  localized  in  space 
when  perception  has  reached  its  final  form. 


CHAP.  IV 


EXTENSITY  AND  EXTENSION 


29I 


to  establish  between  these  two  parallel  series, 
incapable,  by  hypothesis,  of  ever  meeting,  a 
mysterious  correspondence.  Thrown  back  into 
consciousness,  sensible  qualities  become  incap- 
able of  recovering  extensity.  Relegated  to  space, 
and  indeed  to  abstract  space,  where  there  is 
never  but  a single  instant  and  where  everything 
is  always  being  born  anew  — movement  aban- 
dons that  solidarity  of  the  present  with  the  past 
which  is  its  very  essence.  And  as  these  two 
aspects  of  perception,  quality  and  movement, 
have  been  made  equally  obscure,  the  phenomenon 
of  perception,  in  which  a consciousness,  assumed 
to  be  shut  up  in  itself  and  foreign  to  space,  is 
supposed  to  translate  what  occurs  in  space,  be- 
comes a mystery. — But  let  us,  on  the  contrary, 
banish  all  preconceived  idea  of  interpreting  or 
measuring,  let  us  place  ourselves  face  to  face 
with  immediate  reality:  at  once  we  find  that 
there  is  no  impassable  barrier,  no  essential  differ- 
ence, no  real  distinction  even,  between  percep- 
tion and  the  thing  perceived,  between  quality 
and  movement. 

So  we  return,  by  a round-about  way,  to  the 
conclusions  worked  out  in  the  first  chapter  of 
this  book.  Our  perception,  we  said,  is  originally 
in  things  rather  than  in  the  mind,  without  us 
rather  than  within.  The  several  kinds  of  percep- 
tion correspond  to  so  many  directions  actually 
marked  out  in  reality.  But,  we  added,  this 


292 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


perception,  which  coincides  with  its  object,  exists 
rather  in  theory  than  in  fact  : it  could  only 
happen  if  we  were  shut  up  within  the  present 
moment.  In  concrete  perception  memory  inter- 
venes, and  the  subjectivity  of  sensible  qualities 
is  due  precisely  to  the  fact  that  our  consciousness, 
which  begins  by  being  only  memory,  prolongs  a 
plurality  of  moments  into  each  other,  contract- 
ing them  into  a single  intuition. 

Consciousness  and  matter,  body  and  soul,  were 
thus  seen  to  meet  each  other  in  perception.  But 
Perception  in  one  asPe°t  this  idea  remained  for  us 
reroaf  their  obscure,  because  our  perception,  and  con- 
we  lay  as  sequently  also  our  consciousness,  seemed 
prejudices  of  thus  to  share  in  the  divisibility  which  is 
notion.  attributed  to  matter.  If,  on  the  dualis- 
tic  hypothesis,  we  naturally  shrink  from  accepting 
the  partial  coincidence  of  the  perceived  object 
and  the  perceiving  subject,  it  is  because  we  are 
conscious  of  the  undivided  unity  of  our  percep- 
tion, whereas  the  object  appears  to  us  to  be, 
in  essence,  infinitely  divisible.  Hence  the  hypo- 
thesis of  a consciousness  with  inextensive  sensa- 
tions, placed  over  against  an  extended  multiplicity. 
But  if  the  divisibility  of  matter  is  entirely  relative 
to  our  action  thereon,  that  is  to  say  to  our  faculty 
of  modifying  its  aspect,  if  it  belongs  not  to 
matter  itself  but  to  the  space  which  we  throw 
beneath  this  matter  in  order  to  bring  it  within 
our  grasp,  then  the  difficulty  disappears.  Ex- 
tended matter,  regarded  as  a whole,  is  like  a 


CHAP.  IV 


SOUL  AND  BODY 


293 


consciousness  where  everything  balances  and 
compensates  and  neutralizes  everything  else ; 
it  possesses  in  very  truth  the  indivisibility  of  our 
perception  ; so  that,  inversely,  we  may  'without 
scruple  attribute  to  perception  something  of  the 
extensity  of  matter.  These  two  terms,  perception 
and  matter,  approach  each  other  in  the  measure 
that  we  divest  ourselves  of  what  may  be  called 
the  prejudices  of  action  : sensation  recovers  ex- 
tensity, the  concrete  extended  recovers  its  natural 
continuity  and  indivisibility.  And  homogeneous 
space,  which  stood  between  the  two  terms  like  an 
insurmountable  barrier,  is  then  seen  to  have  no 
other  reality  than  that  of  a diagram  or  a symbol. 
It  interests  the  behaviour  of  a being  which  acts  upon 
matter,  but  not  the  work  of  a mind  which  specu- 
lates on  its  essence. 

Thereby  also  some  light  may  be  thrown 
upon  the  problem  towards  which  all  our  en- 
ordinary  quiries  converge,  that  of  the  union  of 
regarding  body  and  soul.  The  obscurity  of  this 
delusively  problem,  on  the  dualistic  hypothesis, 
mtad^extra  comes  from  the  double  fact  that  matter 
sevewaii  is  considered  as  essentially  divisible  and 
tafiem  every  state  of  the  soul  as  rigorously  in- 
them-  extensive,  so  that  from  the  outset  the 
communication  between  the  two  terms  is  severed. 
And  when  we  go  more  deeply  into  this  double 
postulate,  we  discover,  in  regard  to  matter,  a 
confusion  of  concrete  and  indivisible  extensity 
with  the  divisible  space  which  underlies  it ; and 


294 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


CHAP.  IV 


also,  in  regard  to  mind,  the  illusory  idea  that  there 
are  no  degrees,  no  possible  transition,  between 
the  extended  and  the  unextended.  But  if  these 
two  postulates  involve  a common  error,  if  there 
is  a gradual  passage  from  the  idea  to  the  image 
and  from  the  image  to  the  sensation  ; if,  in  the 
measure  in  which  it  evolves  towards  actuality, 
that  is  to  say  towards  action,  the  mental  state 
draws  nearer  to  extension ; if,  finally,  this 
extension  once  attained  remains  undivided  and 
therefore  is  not  out  of  harmony  with  the  unity  of 
the  soul ; we  can  understand  that  spirit  can 
rest  upon  matter  and  consequently  unite  with 
it  in  the  act  of  pure  perception,  yet  nevertheless 
be  radically  distinct  from  it.  It  is  distinct  from 
matter  in  that  it  is,  even  then,  memory,  that  is  to 
say  a synthesis  of  past  and  present  with  a view 
to  the  future,  in  that  it  contracts  the  moments  of 
this  matter  in  order  to  use  them  and  to  manifest 
itself  by  actions  which  are  the  final  aim  of  its 
union  with  the  body.  We  were  right,  then,  when 
we  said,  at  the  beginning  of  this  book,  that  the 
distinction  between  body  and  mind  must  be  estab- 
lished in  terms  not  of  space  but  of  time. 

The  mistake  of  ordinary  dualism  is  that  it 
starts  from  the  spatial  point  of  view  : it  puts  on 
the  one  hand  matter  with  its  modifications  in 
space,  on  the  other  unextended  sensations  in  con- 
sciousness. Hence  the  impossibility  of  under- 
standing how  the  spirit  acts  upon  the  body  or  the 
body  upon  spirit.  Hence  hypotheses  which  are 


CHAP.  IV 


SOUL  AND  BODY 


295 


and  can  be  nothing  but  disguised  statements  of  the 
fact, — the  idea  of  a parallelism  or  of  a pre-estab- 
lished harmony.  But  hence  also  the  impossibility 
of  constituting  either  a psychology  of  memory  or 
a metaphysic  of  matter.  We  have  striven  to  show 
that  this  psychology  and  this  metaphysic  are 
bound  up  with  each  other,  and  that  the  difficul- 
ties are  less  formidable  in  a dualism  which,  starting 
from  pure  perception,  where  subject  and  object 
coincide,  follows  the  development  of  the  two  terms 
in  their  respective  durations, — matter,  the  further 
we  push  its  analysis,  tending  more  and  more  to  be 
only  a succession  of  infinitely  rapid  moments  which 
may  be  deduced  each  from  the  other  and  thereby  are 
equivalent  to  each  other  ; spirit  being  in  perception 
already  memory,  and  declaring  itself  more  and 
more  as  a prolonging  of  the  past  into  the  present, 
a progress,  a true  evolution. 

But  does  the  relation  of  body  and  mind  become 
thereby  clearer  ? We  substitute  a temporal  for 
But  the  dis-  a spatial  distinction  : are  the  two  terms 
tween  mind  any  the  more  able  to  unite  ? It  must  be 
shouid^e61  observed  that  the  first  distinction  does 
n0at  0®  spaee,ms  not  admit  of  degree : matter  is  supposed 
ordura-me  to  be  in  space,  spirit  to  be  extra- 
spatial;  there  is  no  possible  transition 
degrees.  between  them.  But  if,  in  fact,  the 
humblest  function  of  spirit  is  to  bind  together 
the  successive  moments  of  the  duration  of 
things,  if  it  is  by  this  that  it  comes  into  con- 
tact with  matter  and  by  this  also  that  it  is  first 


296 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


chap,  rv 


of  all  distinguished  from  matter,  we  can  con- 
ceive an  infinite  number  of  degrees  between  matter 
and  fully  developed  spirit — a spirit  capable  of 
action  which  is  not  only  undetermined,  but 
also  reasonable  and  reflective.  Each  of  these  suc- 
cessive degrees,  which  measures  a growing  inten- 
sity of  life,  corresponds  to  a higher  tension  of  dura- 
tion and  is  made  manifest  externally  by  a greater 
development  of  the  sensori-motor  system.  But 
let  us  consider  this  nervous  system  itself : we  note 
that  its  increasing  complexity  appears  to  allow  an 
ever  greater  latitude  to  the  activity  of  the  living 
being,  the  faculty  of  waiting  before  reacting,  and 
of  putting  the  excitation  received  into  relation 
with  an  ever  richer  variety  of  motor  mechanisms. 
Yet  this  is  only  the  outward  aspect ; and  the  more 
complex  organization  of  the  nervous  system,  which 
seems  to  assure  the  greater  independence  of  the 
living  being  in  regard  to  matter,  is  only  the 
material  symbol  of  that  independence  itself,  that 
is  to  say  of  the  inner  energy  which  allows  the 
being  to  free  itself  from  the  rhythm  of  the  flow 
of  things,  and  to  retain  in  an  ever  higher  degree  the 
past  in  order  to  influence  ever  more  deeply  the 
future,— the  symbol,  in  the  special  sense  which 
we  give  to  the  word,  of  its  memory.  Thus, 
between  brute  matter  and  the  mind  most  cap- 
able of  reflexion  there  are  all  possible  intensities 
of  memory  or,  what  comes  to  the  same  thing, 
all  the  degrees  of  freedom.  On  the  first  hypo- 
thesis, that  which  expresses  the  distinction  be- 


CHAP.  IV 


SOUL  AND  BODY 


297 


tween  spirit  and  body  in  terms  of  space,  body 
and  spirit  are  like  two  railway  lines  which  cut 
each  other  at  a right  angle  ; on  the  second,  the 
rails  come  together  in  a curve,  so  that  we  pass 
insensibly  from  the  one  to  the  other. 

But  have  we  here  anything  but  a metaphor  ? 
Does  not  a marked  distinction,  an  irreducible  oppo- 
sition, remain  between  matter  properly  so-called 
and  the  lowest  degree  of  freedom  or  of  memory  ? 
Yes,  no  doubt,  the  distinction  subsists,  but  union 
becomes  possible,  since  it  would  be  given,  under 
the  radical  form  of  a partial  coincidence,  in  pure 
perception.  The  difficulties  of  ordinary  dualism 
come,  not  from  the  distinction  of  the  two  terms, 
but  from  the  impossibility  of  seeing  how  the  one 
is  grafted  upon  the  other.  Now,  as  we  have 
shown,  pure  perception,  which  is  the  lowest  degree 
of  mind, — mind  without  memory — is  really  part 
of  matter,  as  we  understand  matter.  We  may 
go  further  : memory  does  not  intervene  as  a func- 
tion of  which  matter  has  no  presentiment  and 
which  it  does  not  imitate  in  its  own  way.  If 
matter  does  not  remember  the  past,  it  is  because 
it  repeats  the  past  unceasingly,  because,  subject 
to  necessity,  it  unfolds  a series  of  moments  of 
which  each  is  the  equivalent  of  the  preceding 
moment  and  may  be  deduced  from  it  : thus 
its  past  is  truly  given  in  its  present.  But  a 
being  which  evolves  more  or  less  freely  creates 
something  new  every  moment  : in  vain,  then, 
should  we  seek  to  read  its  past  in  its  present 


298  MATTER  AND  MEMORY  chap,  iv 

unless  its  past  were  deposited  within  it  in  the  form 
of  memory.  Thus,  to  use  again  a metaphor 
which  has  more  than  once  appeared  in  this  book, 
it  is  necessary,  and  for  similar  reasons,  that  the 
past  should  be  acted  by  matter,  imagined  by  mind. 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION 


I.  The  idea  that  we  have  disengaged  from  the 
facts  and  confirmed  by  reasoning  is  that  our  body 
The  body  an  an  instrument  of  action,  and  of  action 
oTactionnt  only-  In  no  degree,  in  no  sense,  under 
only-  no  aspect,  does  it  serve  to  prepare,  far 
less  to  explain,  a representation.  Consider  ex- 
ternal perception  : there  is  only  a difference  of 
degree,  not  of  kind,  between  the  so-called  percep- 
tive faculties  of  the  brain  and  the  reflex  functions 
of  the  spinal  cord.  While  the  spinal  cord  trans- 
forms the  excitations  received  into  movements 
which  are  more  or  less  necessarily  executed,  the 
brain  puts  them  into  relation  with  motor  mechan- 
isms which  are  more  or  less  freely  chosen  ; but 
that  which  the  brain  explains  in  our  perception  is 
action  begun,  prepared  or  suggested,  it  is  not 
perception  itself.  Consider  memory,  the  body 
retains  motor  habits  capable  of  acting  the  past 
over  again  ; it  can  resume  attitudes  in  which 
the  past  will  insert  itself ; or,  again,  by  the  repeti- 
tion of  certain  cerebral  phenomena  which  have 
prolonged  former  perceptions,  it  can  furnish  to 
remembrance  a point  of  attachment  with  the 
actual,  a means  of  recovering  its  lost  influence 
upon  present  reality  : but  in  no  case  can  the  brain 

290 


300 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


store  up  recollections  or  images.  Thus,  neither  in 
perception,  nor  in  memory,  nor  a fortiori  in  the 
higher  attainments  of  mind,  does  the  body  con- 
tribute directly  to  representation.  By  develop- 
ing this  hypothesis  under  its  manifold  aspects  and 
thus  pushing  dualism  to  an  extreme,  we  appeared 
to  divide  body  and  soul  by  an  impassable  abyss. 
In  truth,  we  were  indicating  the  only  possible 
means  of  bringing  them  together. 

II.  All  the  difficulties  raised  by  this  problem, 
either  in  ordinary  dualism,  or  in  materialism  and 
Perception  idealism,  come  from  considering,  in  the 
the  physicaf’  phenomena  of  perception  and  memory, 
mental!  are  ^ie  physical  and  the  mental  as  duplicates 
duplicates  of  the  one  of  the  other.  Suppose  I place 
each  other.  mySelf  at  the  materialist  point  of  view 
of  the  epiphenomenal  consciousness : I am  quite 
unable  to  understand  why  certain  cerebral  pheno- 
mena are  accompanied  by  consciousness,  that  is 
to  say,  of  what  use  could  be,  or  how  could  ever 
arise,  the  conscious  repetition  of  the  material  uni- 
verse I have  begun  by  positing.  Suppose  I 
prefer  idealism : I then  allow  myself  only  per- 
ceptions, and  my  body  is  one  of  them.  But 
whereas  observation  shows  me  that  the  images 
I perceive  are  entirely  changed  by  very  slight 
alterations  of  the  image  I call  my  body  (since 
I have  only  to  shut  my  eyes  and  my  visual 
universe  disappears),  science  assures  me  that 
all  phenomena  must  succeed  and  condition  one 
another  according  to  a determined  order,  in  which 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION  3OI 

effects  are  strictly  proportioned  to  causes.  I 
am  obliged,  therefore,  to  seek,  in  the  image  which 
I call  my  body,  and  which  follows  me  everywhere, 
for  changes  which  shall  be  the  equivalents— but 
the  well-regulated  equivalents,  now  deducible 
from  each  other — of  the  images  which  succeed 
one  another  around  my  body  : the  cerebral 
movements,  to  which  I am  led  back  in  this 
way,  again  are  the  duplicates  of  my  percep- 
tions. It  is  true  that  these  movements  are 
still  perceptions,  ‘ possible  ’ perceptions, — so  that 
this  second  hypothesis  is  more  intelligible  than 
the  first ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  must  sup- 
pose, in  its  turn,  an  inexplicable  correspondence 
between  my  real  perception  of  things  and  my 
possible  perception  of  certain  cerebral  movements 
which  do  not  in  any  way  resemble  these  things. 
When  we  look  at  it  closely,  we  shall  see  that  this 
is  the  reef  upon  which  all  idealism  is  wrecked  : 
there  is  no  possible  transition  from  the  order 
which  is  perceived  by  our  senses  to  the  order  which 
we  are  to  conceive  for  the  sake  of  our  science, 
— or,  if  we  are  dealing  more  particularly  with 
the  Kantian  idealism,  no  possible  transition  from 
sense  to  understanding. — So  my  only  refuge 
seems  to  be  ordinary  dualism.  I place  matter 
on  this  side,  mind  on  that,  and  I suppose  that 
cerebral  movements  are  the  cause  or  the  occasion 
of  my  representation  of  objects.  But  if  they 
are  its  cause,  if  they  are  enough  to  produce  it, 
I must  fall  back,  step  by  step,  upon  the  material- 


302 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


istic  hypothesis  of  an  epiphenomenal  conscious- 
ness. If  they  are  only  its  occasion,  I thereby  suppose 
that  they  do  not  resemble  it  in  any  way,  and  so, 
depriving  matter  of  all  the  qualities  which  I con- 
ferred upon  it  in  my  representation,  I come  back 
to  idealism.  Idealism  and  materialism  are  then 
the  two  poles  between  which  this  kind  of  dualism 
will  always  oscillate  ; and  when,  in  order  to  main- 
tain the  duality  of  substances,  it  decides  to  make 
them  both  of  equal  rank,  it  will  be  led  to  regard 
them  as  two  translations  of  one  and  the  same 
original,  two  parallel  and  predetermined  develop- 
ments of  a single  principle,  and  thus  to  deny  their 
reciprocal  influence,  and,  by  an  inevitable  conse- 
quence, to  sacrifice  freedom. 

Now,  if  we  look  beneath  these  three  hypo- 
theses, we  find  that  they  have  a common  basis  : 
The  mistake  ah  "three  regard  the  elementary  opera- 
behevinVthat  ti°ns  of  the  mind,  perception  and 
andmemory  memory,  as  operations  of  pure  know- 
knowiedge,  ledge.  What  they  place  at  the  origin 
whereas  they  consciousness  is  either  the  useless 

point  to 

action.  duplicate  of  an  external  reality  or 
the  inert  material  of  an  intellectual  construction 
entirely  disinterested:  but  they  always  neglect 
the  relation  of  perception  with  action  and  of 
memory  with  conduct.  Now,  it  is  no  doubt  pos- 
sible to  conceive,  as  an  ideal  limit,  a memory  and 
a perception  that  are  disinterested  ; but,  in  fact, 
it  is  towards  action  that  memory  and  perception 
are  turned , it  is  action  that  the  body  pre- 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION 


303 


pares.  Do  we  consider  perception  ? The  grow- 
ing complexity  of  the  nervous  system  shunts 
the  excitation  received  on  to  an  ever  larger 
variety  of  motor  mechanisms,  and  so  sketches 
out  simultaneously  an  ever  larger  number  of 
possible  actions.  Do  we  turn  to  memory  ? We 
note  that  its  primary  function  is  to  evoke  all 
those  past  perceptions  which  are  analogous 
to  the  present  perception,  to  recall  to  us  what 
preceded  and  followed  them,  and  so  to  suggest 
to  us  that  decision  which  is  the  most  useful. 
But  this  is  not  all.  By  allowing  us  to  grasp  in  a 
single  intuition  multiple  moments  of  duration,  it 
frees  us  from  the  movement  of  the  flow  of  things, 
that  is  to  say,  from  the  rhythm  of  necessity.  The 
more  of  these  moments  memory  can  contract  into 
one,  the  firmer  is  the  hold  which  it  gives  to  us  on 
matter  : so  that  the  memory  of  a living  being 
appears  indeed  to  measure,  above  all,  its  powers  of 
action  upon  things,  and  to  be  only  the  intellectual 
reverberation  of  this  power.  Let  us  start,  then, 
from  this  energy,  as  from  the  true  principle  : let 
us  suppose  that  the  body  is  a centre  of  action,  and 
only  a centre  of  action.  We  must  see  what  con- 
sequences thence  result  for  perception,  for  memory, 
and  for  the  relations  between  body  and  mind. 

III.  To  take  perception  first.  Here  is  my  body 
with  its  ‘ perceptive  centres.’  These  centres 
Perception  vibrate,  and  I have  the  representation 
uhingSs-in-  things.  On  the  other  hand  I have 
themselves.’  supposed  that  these  vibrations  can 


304  MATTER  AND  MEMORY 

neither  produce  nor  translate  my  perception. 
It  is,  then,  outside  them.  Where  is  it  ? I can- 
not hesitate  as  to  the  answer  : positing  my  body, 

I posit  a certain  image,  but  with  it  also  the 
aggregate  of  the  other  images,  since  there  is  no 
material  image  which  does  not  owe  its  qualities, 
its  determinations,  in  short  its  existence,  to  the 
place  which  it  occupies  in  the  totality  of  the  uni- 
verse. My  perception  can,  then,  only  be  some 
part  of  these  objects  themselves  ; it  is  in  them 
rather  than  they  in  it.  But  what  is  it  exactly 
within  them  ? I see  that,  my  perception  appears 
to  follow  all  the  vibratory  detail  of  the  so- 
called  sensitive  nerves  ; and  on  the  other  hand 
I know  that  the  role  of  their  vibrations  is  solely  to 
prepare  the  reaction  of  my  body  on  neighbouring 
bodies,  to  sketch  out  my  virtual  actions.  Per- 
ception, therefore,  consists  in  detaching,  from  the 
totality  of  objects,  the  possible  action  of  my  body 
upon  them.  Perception  appears,  then,  as  only  a 
choice.  It  creates  nothing  ; its  office,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  to  eliminate  from  the  totality  of  images 
all  those  on  which  I can  have  no  hold,  and  then, 
from  each  of  those  which  I retain,  all  that  does  not 
concern  the  needs  of  the  image  which  I call  my 
body.  Such  is,  at  least,  much  simplified,  the  way 
we  explain  or  describe  schematically  what  we 
have  called  pure  perception.  Let  us  mark  out 
at  once  the  intermediate  place  which  we  thus 
take  up  between  realism  and  idealism. 

That  every  reality  has  a kinship,  an  analogy, 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION 


305 


in  short  a relation  with  consciousness — this  is 
Though  it  what  we  concede  to  idealism  by  the  very 
oniySaUpart  fact  that  we  term  things  ‘ images.’  No 
things.  philosophical  doctrine,  moreover,  pro- 
vided that  it  is  consistent  with  itself,  can  escape 
from  this  conclusion.  But  if  we  could  assemble 
all  the  states  of  consciousness,  past,  present,  and 
possible,  of  all  conscious  beings,  we  should  still 
only  have  gathered  a very  small  part  of  material 
reality,  because  images  outrun  perception  on 
every  side.  It  is  just  these  images  that  science 
and  metaphysic  seek  to  reconstitute,  thus  restor- 
ing the  whole  of  a chain  of  which  our  perception 
grasps  only  a few  links.  But  in  order  thus  to 
discover  between  perception  and  reality  the 
relation  of  the  part  to  the  whole,  it  is  necessary  to 
leave  to  perception  its  true  office,  which  is  to 
prepare  actions.  This  is  what  idealism  fails  to  do. 
Why  is  it  unable,  as  we  said  just  now,  to  pass 
from  the  order  manifested  in  perception  to  the 
order  which  is  successful  in  science,  that  is  to 
say,  from  the  contingency  with  which  our  sensa- 
tions appear  to  follow  each  other  to  the  deter- 
minism which  binds  together  the  phenomena  of 
nature  ? Precisely  because  it  attributes  to  con- 
sciousness, in  perception,  a speculative  r61e,  so  that 
it  is  impossible  to  see  what  interest  this  conscious- 
ness has  in  allowing  to  escape,  between  two  sen- 
sations for  instance,  the  intermediate  links  through 
which  the  second  might  be  deduced  from  the  first. 
These  intermediaries  and  their  strict  order  thus 


x 


306 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


remain  obscure,  whether,  with  Mill,  we  make  the 
intermediaries  into  ‘ possible  sensations,’  or, 
with  Kant,  hold  the  substructure  of  the  order 
to  be  the  work  of  an  impersonal  understand- 
ing. But  suppose  that  my  conscious  perception 
has  an  entirely  practical  destination,  that  it 
simply  indicates,  in  the  aggregate  of  things,  that 
which  interests  my  possible  action  upon  them  : 
I can  then  understand  that  all  the  rest  escapes 
me,  and  that,  nevertheless,  all  the  rest  is  of  the 
same  nature  as  what  I perceive.  My  conscious- 
ness of  matter  is  then  no  longer  either  subjective, 
as  it  is  for  English  idealism,  or  relative,  as  it 
is  for  the  Kantian  idealism.  It  is  not  subjec- 
tive, for  it  is  in  things  rather  than  in  me.  It  is 
not  relative,  because  the  relation  between  the 
‘ phenomenon  ’ and  the  ‘ thing  ’ is  not  that  of 
appearance  to  reality,  but  merely  that  of  the  part 
to  the  whole. 

Here  we  seem  to  return  to  realism.  But  real- 
ism, unless  corrected  on  an  essential  point,  is  as 
The  mistake  inacceptable  as  idealism,  and  for  the 

is  to  set  up  ..  . . . 

homogeneous  same  reason.  Idealism,  we  said,  cannot 
space  as  a real  . , , ..  . r , , . 

or  even  ideal  pass  from  the  order  manifested  in  per- 

to^extension^  ception  to  the  order  which  is  successful 

in  science,  that  is  to  say  to  reality.  Inversely, 

realism  fails  to  draw  from  reality  the  immediate 

consciousness  which  we  have  of  it.  Taking  the 

point  of  view  of  ordinary  realism,  we  have,  on 

the  one  hand,  a composite  matter  made  up  of 

more  or  less  independent  parts,  diffused  through- 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION  307 

out  space,  and,  on  the  other,  a mind  which  can 
have  no  point  of  contact  with  matter,  unless  it 
be,  as  materialists  maintain,  the  unintelligible 
epiphenomenon.  If  we  prefer  the  standpoint 
of  the  Kantian  realism,  we  find  between  the 
‘ thing-in-itself,’  that  is  to  say  the  real,  and  the 
‘ sensuous  manifold  ’ from  which  we  construct  our 
knowledge,  no  conceivable  relation,  no  common 
measure.  Now,  if  we  get  to  the  bottom  of  these 
two  extreme  forms  of  realism,  we  see  that  they 
converge  towards  the  same  point : both  raise  homo- 
geneous space  as  a barrier  between  the  intellect 
and  things.  The  simpler  realism  makes  of  this 
space  a real  medium,  in  which  things  are  in  sus- 
pension ; Kantian  realism  regards  it  as  an  ideal 
medium,  in  which  the  multiplicity  of  sensations 
is  coordinated ; but  for  both  of  them  this 
medium  is  given  to  begin  with,  as  the  necessary 
condition  of  what  comes  to  abide  in  it.  And  if  we 
try  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  this  common  hypo- 
thesis, in  its  turn,  we  find  that  it  consists  in  at- 
tributing to  homogeneous  space  a disinterested 
office  : space  is  supposed  either  merely  to  uphold 
material  reality,  or  to  have  the  function,  still 
purely  speculative,  of  furnishing  sensations  with 
means  of  coordinating  themselves.  So  that 
the  obscurity  of  realism,  like  that  of  idealism, 
comes  from  the  fact  that,  in  both  of  them,  our 
conscious  perception  and  the  conditions  of  our 
conscious  perception  are  assumed  to  point  to 
pure  knowledge,  not  to  action. — But  suppose  now 


3°8 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


that  this  homogeneous  space  is  not  logically  an- 
terior, but  posterior  to  material  things  and  to 
the  pure  knowledge  which  we  can  have  of  them  ; 
suppose  that  extensity  is  prior  to  space  ; suppose 
that  homogeneous  space  concerns  our  action  and 
only  our  action,  being  like  an  infinitely  fine  net- 
work which  we  stretch  beneath  material  con- 
tinuity in  order  to  render  ourselves  masters  of 
it,  to  decompose  it  according  to  the  plan  of  our 
activities  and  our  needs.  Then,  not  only  has  our 
hypothesis  the  advantage  of  bringing  us  into 
harmony  with  science,  which  shows  us  each  thing 
exercising  an  influence  on  all  the  others  and  con- 
sequently occupying,  in  a certain  sense,  the  whole 
of  the  extended  (although  we  perceive  of  this 
thing  only  its  centre  and  mark  its  limits  at  the 
point  where  our  body  ceases  to  have  any  hold 
upon  it).  Not  only  has  it  the  advantage,  in 
metaphysic,  of  suppressing  or  lessening  the  contra- 
dictions raised  by  divisibility  in  space, — contra- 
dictions which  always  arise,  as  we  have  shown, 
from  our  failure  to  dissociate  the  two  points  of 
view,  that  of  action  from  that  of  knowledge.  It 
has,  above  all,  the  advantage  of  overthrowing 
the  insurmountable  barriers  raised  by  realism  be- 
tween the  extended  world  and  our  perception  of 
it.  For  whereas  this  doctrine  assumes  on  the  one 
hand  an  external  reality  which  is  multiple  and 
divided,  and  on  the  other  sensations  alien  from 
extensity  and  without  possible  contact  with  it, 
we  find  that  concrete  extensity  is  not  really 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION  309 

divided,  any  more  than  immediate  perception  is 
in  truth  unextended.  Starting  from  realism,  we 
come  back  to  the  point  to  which  idealism  had  led 
us  ; we  replace  perception  in  things.  And  we  see 
realism  and  idealism  ready  to  come  to  an  under- 
standing when  we  set  aside  the  postulate,  uncriti- 
cally accepted  by  both,  which  served  them  as  a 
common  frontier. 

To  sum  up  : if  we  suppose  an  extended  con- 
tinuum, and,  in  this  continuum,  the  centre  of  real 
action  which  is  represented  by  our  body,  its 
activity  will  appear  to  illumine  all  those  parts 
of  matter  with  which  at  each  successive  moment 
it  can  deal.  The  same  needs,  the  same  power  of 
action,  which  have  delimited  our  body  in  matter, 
will  also  carve  out  distinct  bodies  in  the  sur- 
rounding medium.  Everything  will  happen  as  if 
we  allowed  to  filter  through  us  that  action  of  ex- 
ternal things  which  is  real,  in  order  to  arrest  and 
retain  that  which  is  virtual : this  virtual  action  of 
things  upon  our  body  and  of  our  body  upon  things 
is  our  perception  itself.  But  since  the  excitations 
which  our  body  receives  from  surrounding  bodies 
determine  unceasingly,  within  its  substance, nascent 
reactions, — since  these  internal  movements  of  the 
cerebral  substance  thus  sketch  out  at  every  mo- 
ment our  possible  action  on  things,  the  state  of 
the  brain  exactly  corresponds  to  the  perception. 
It  is  neither  its  cause,  nor  its  effect,  nor  in  any 
sense  its  duplicate  : it  merely  continues  it,  the 
perception  being  our  virtual  action  and  the  cere- 
bral state  our  action  already  begun. 


3io 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


IV.  But  this  theory  of  * pure  perception  ’ had 
to  be  both  qualified  and  completed  in  regard  to  two 
Real  action  points.  For  the  so-called  ‘ pure  ’ percep- 
“tlon1111131  tion,  which  is  like  a fragment  of  reality, 
affection  and  detached  just  as  it  is,  would  belong  to  a 
memory.  being  unable  to  mingle  with  the  percep- 
tion of  other  bodies  that  of  its  own  body,  that  is 
to  say,  its  affections  ; nor  with  its  intuition  of 
the  actual  moment  that  of  other  moments,  that 
is  to  say,  its  memory.  In  other  words,  we  have, 
to  begin  with,  and  for  the  convenience  of  study, 
treated  the  living  body  as  a mathematical  point 
in  space  and  conscious  perception  as  a mathe- 
matical instant  in  time.  We  then  had  to  restore 
to  the  body  its  extensity  and  to  perception  its 
duration.  By  this  we  restored  to  consciousness 
its  two  subjective  elements,  affectivity  and 
memory. 

What  is  an  affection  ? Our  perception,  we 
said,  indicates  the  possible  action  of  our  body  on 
others.  But  our  body,  being  extended,  is  capable 
of  acting  upon  itself  as  well  as  upon  other  bodies. 
Into  our  perception,  then,  something  of  our  body 
must  enter.  When  we  are  dealing  with  external 
bodies,  these  are,  by  hypothesis,  separated  from 
ours  by  a space,  greater  or  less,  which  measures 
the  remoteness  in  time  of  their  promise  or  of 
their  menace  : this  is  why  our  perception  of  these 
bodies  indicates  only  possible  actions.  But  the 
more  the  distance  diminishes  between  these 
bodies  and  our  own,  the  more  the  possible  action 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION  311 

tends  to  transform  itself  into  a real  action,  the 
call  for  action  becoming  more  urgent  in  the 
measure  and  proportion  that  the  distance  dimi- 
nishes. And  when  this  distance  is  nil,  that  is  to 
say  when  the  body  to  be  perceived  is  our  own 
body,  it  is  a real  and  no  longer  a virtual  action 
that  our  perception  sketches  out.  Such  is, 
precisely,  the  nature  of  pain,  an  actual  effort  of 
the  damaged  part  to  set  things  to  rights,  an 
effort  that  is  local,  isolated,  and  thereby  con- 
demned to  failure,  in  an  organism  which  can  no 
longer  act  except  as  a whole.  Pain  is  therefore 
in  the  place  where  it  is  felt,  as  the  object  is  at  the 
place  where  it  is  perceived.  Between  the  affec- 
tion felt  and  the  image  perceived  there  is  this 
difference,  that  the  affection  is  within  our  body, 
the  image  outside  our  body.  And  that  is  why  the 
surface  of  our  body,  the  common  limit  of  this  and 
of  other  bodies,  is  given  to  us  in  the  form 
both  of  sensations  and  of  an  image. 

In  this  inferiority  of  affective  sensation  con- 
sists its  subjectivity ; in  that  exteriority  of 
images  in  general  their  objectivity.  But  here 
again  we  encounter  the  ever-recurring  mistake 
with  which  we  have  been  confronted  throughout 
this  work.  It  is  supposed  that  perception  and 
sensation  exist  for  their  own  sake  ; the  philosopher 
ascribes  to  them  an  entirely  speculative  function  ; 
and,  as  he  has  overlooked  those  real  and  virtual 
actions  with  which  sensation  and  perception  are 
bound  up  and  by  which,  according  as  the  action 


312 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


is  virtual  or  real,  perception  and  sensation  are 
characterized  and  distinguished,  he  becomes  un- 
able to  find  any  other  difference  between  them 
than  a difference  of  degree.  Then,  profiting  by 
the  fact  that  affective  sensation  is  but  vaguely 
localized  (because  the  effort  it  involves  is  an 
indistinct  effort)  at  once  he  declares  it  to  be 
unextended  ; and  these  attenuated  affections  or 
unextended  sensations  he  sets  up  as  the  material 
with  which  we  are  supposed  to  build  up  images 
in  space.  Thereby  he  condemns  himself  to  an 
impossibility  of  explaining  either  whence  arise 
the  elements  of  consciousness,  or  sensations,  which 
he  sets  up  as  so  many  absolutes,  or  how,  unex- 
tended, they  find  their  way  to  space  and  are  co- 
ordinated there,  or  why,  in  it,  they  adopt  a par- 
ticular order  rather  than  any  other,  or,  finally, 
how  they  manage  to  make  up  an  experience  which 
is  regular  and  common  to  all  men.  This  experi- 
ence, the  necessary  field  of  our  activity,  is,  on 
the  contrary,  what  we  should  start  from.  Pure 
perceptions,  therefore,  or  images,  are  what  we 
should  posit  at  the  outset.  And  sensations,  far 
from  being  the  materials  from  which  the  image 
is  wrought,  will  then  appear  as  the  impurity 
which  is  introduced  into  it,  being  that  part  of 
our  own  body  which  we  project  into  all  others. 

V.  But,  as  long  as  we  confine  ourselves  to 
sensation  and  to  pure  perception,  we  can  hardly 
be  said  to  be  dealing  with  the  spirit.  No  doubt 
we  demonstrate,  as  against  the  theory  of  an 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION 


313 


epiphenomenal  consciousness,  that  no  cerebral 

state  is  the  equivalent  of  a perception. 
spirft'not3 a No  doubt  the  choice  of  perceptions  from 
tion  of  among  images  m general  is  the  effect  of  a 

matter  , . . 

discernment  which  foreshadows  spint.  No 
doubt  also  the  material  universe  itself,  defined  as 
the  totality  of  images,  is  a kind  of  consciousness, 
a consciousness  in  which  everything  compensates 
and  neutralizes  everything  else,  a consciousness  of 
which  all  the  potential  parts,  balancing  each 
other  by  a reaction  which  is  always  equal  to  the 
action,  reciprocally  hinder  each  other  from  stand- 
ing out.  But  to  touch  the  reality  of  spirit  we 
must  place  ourselves  at  the  point  where  an  indi- 
vidual consciousness,  continuing  and  retaining  the 
past  in  a present  enriched  by  it,  thus  escapes  the 
law  of  necessity,  the  law  which  ordains  that  the 
past  shall  ever  follow  itself  in  a present  which 
merely  repeats  it  in  another  form,  and  that  all 
things  shall  ever  be  flowing  away.  When  we  pass 
from  pure  perception  to  memory,  we  definitely 
abandon  matter  for  spirit. 

VI.  The  theory  of  memory,  around  which 
the  whole  of  our  work  centres,  must  be  both 
the  theoretic  consequence  and  the  experimental 
verification  of  our  theory  of  pure  perception. 
That  the  cerebral  states  which  accompany  per- 
ception are  neither  its  cause  nor  its  duplicate, 
and  that  perception  bears  to  its  physiological 
counterpart  the  relation  of  a virtual  action  to  an 
action  begun — this  we  cannot  substantiate  by 


314 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


facts,  since  on  our  hypothesis  everything  is  bound 
to  happen  as  if  perception  were  a consequence  of 
the  state  of  the  brain.  For,  in  pure  perception, 
the  perceived  object  is  a present  object,  a body 
which  modifies  our  own.  Its  image  is  then  ac- 
tually given,  and  therefore  the  facts  permit  us  to 
say  indifferently  (though  we  are  far  from  knowing 
our  own  meaning  equally  well  in  the  two  cases) 
that  the  cerebral  modifications  sketch  the  nascent 
reactions  of  our  body  or  that  they  create  in 
consciousness  the  duplicate  of  the  present  image. 
But  with  memory  it  is  otherwise,  for  a remem- 
brance is  the  representation  of  an  absent  object. 
Here  the  two  hypotheses  must  have  opposite  con- 
sequences. If,  in  the  case  of  a present  object,  a 
state  of  our  body  is  thought  sufficient  to  create 
the  representation  of  the  object,  still  more  must 
it  be  thought  so  in  the  case  of  an  object 
that  is  represented  though  absent.  It  is  neces- 
sary therefore,  on  this  theory,  that  the  remem- 
brance should  arise  from  the  attenuated  repetition 
of  the  cerebral  phenomenon  which  occasioned  the 
primary  perception,  and  should  consist  simply 
in  a perception  weakened.  Whence  this  double 
thesis  : Memory  is  only  a function  of  the  brain,  and 
there  is  only  a difference  of  intensity  between  per- 
ception and  recollection. — If,  on  the  contrary,  the 
cerebral  state  in  no  way  begets  our  perception  of 
the  present  object  but  merely  continues  it,  it  may 
also  prolong  and  convert  into  action  the  recol- 
lection of  it  which  we  summon  up,  but  it  cannot 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION  315 

give  birth  to  that  recollection.  And  as,  on 
the  other  hand,  our  perception  of  the  present 
object  is  something  of  that  object  itself,  our 
representation  of  the  absent  object  must  be  a 
phenomenon  of  quite  another  order  than  percep- 
tion, since  between  presence  and  absence  there  are 
no  degrees,  no  intermediate  stages.  Whence  this 
double  thesis,  which  is  the  opposite  of  the  former  : 
Memory  is  something  other  than  a function  of  the 
brain,  and  there  is  not  merely  a difference  of  degree, 
but  of  kind,  between  perception  and  recollection. — 
The  conflict  between  the  two  theories  now  takes 
an  acute  form  ; and  this  time  experience  can 
judge  between  them. 

We  will  not  here  recapitulate  in  detail  the  proof 
we  have  tried  to  elaborate,  but  merely  recall  its 
essential  points.  All  the  arguments  from  fact, 
which  may  be  invoked  in  favour  of  a probable 
accumulation  of  memories  in  the  cortical  substance, 
are  drawn  from  localized  disorders  of  memory. 
But,  if  recollections  were  really  deposited  in  the 
brain,  to  definite  gaps  in  memory  characteristic  le- 
sions of  the  brain  would  correspond.  Now,  in  those 
forms  of  amnesia  in  which  a whole  period  of  our 
past  existence,  for  example,  is  abruptly  and  entirely 
obliterated  from  memory,  we  do  not  observe  any 
precise  cerebral  lesion ; and,  on  the  contrary,  in  those 
disorders  of  memory  where  cerebral  localization  is 
distinct  and  certain,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  different 
types  of  aphasia  and  in  the  diseases  of  visual  or 
auditory  recognition,  we  do  not  find  that  certain 


3i6 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


Recognition. 


definite  recollections  are  as  it  were  torn  from  their 
seat,  but  that  it  is  the  whole  faculty  of  remember- 
ing that  is  more  or  less  diminished  in  vitality , 
as  if  the  subject  had  more  or  less  difficulty  in 
bringing  his  recollections  into  contact  with  the 
present  situation.  The  mechanism  of  this  con- 
tact was,  therefore,  what  we  had  to  study  in 
order  to  ascertain  whether  the  office  of  the  brain 
is  not  rather  to  ensure  its  working  than  to  im- 
prison the  recollections  in  cells. 

We  were  thus  led  to  follow  through  its 
windings  the  progressive  movement  by  which 
past  and  present  come  into  contact  with 
each  other,  that  is  to  say,  the  process 
of  recognition.  And  we  found,  in  fact,  that  the 
recognition  of  a present  object  might  be  effected 
in  two  absolutely  different  ways,  but  that  in 
neither  case  did  the  brain  act  as  a reservoir  of 
images.  Sometimes,  by  an  entirely  passive  recog- 
nition, rather  acted  than  thought,  the  body  re- 
sponds to  a perception  that  recurs  by  a move- 
ment or  attitude  that  has  become  automatic  : in 
this  case  everything  is  explained  by  the  motor 
apparatus  which  habit  has  set  up  in  the  body, 
and  lesions  of  the  memory  may  result  from  the 
destruction  of  these  mechanisms.  Sometimes,  on 
the  other  hand,  recognition  is  actively  produced 
by  memory-images  which  go  out  to  meet  the 
present  perception  ; but  then  it  is  necessary  that 
these  recollections,  at  the  moment  that  they  over- 
lie the  perception,  should  be  able  to  set  going 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION  317 

in  the  brain  the  same  machinery  that  percep- 
tion ordinarily  sets  to  work  in  order  to  produce 
actions ; if  not  foredoomed  to  impotence,  they 
will  have  no  tendency  to  become  actual.  And 
this  is  why,  in  all  cases  where  a lesion  of  the  brain 
attacks  a certain  category  of  recollections,  the 
affected  recollections  do  not  resemble  each  other 
by  all  belonging  to  the  same  period,  for  instance, 
or  by  any  logical  relationship  to  each  other,  but 
simply  in  that  they  are  all  auditive,  or  all  visual, 
or  all  motor.  That  which  is  damaged  appears  to 
be  the  various  sensorial  or  motor  areas,  or,  more 
often  still,  those  appendages  which  permit  of  their 
being  set  going  from  within  the  cortex,  rather  than 
the  recollections  themselves.  We  even  went  further, 
and  by  an  attentive  study  of  the  recognition  of 
words,  as  also  of  the  phenomena  of  sensory  apha- 
sia, we  endeavoured  to  prove  that  recognition 
is  in  no  way  effected  by  a mechanical  awakening  of 
memories  that  are  asleep  in  the  brain.  It  implies, 
on  the  contrary,  a more  or  less  high  degree  of  ten- 
sion in  consciousness,  which  goes  to  fetch  pure  re- 
collections in  pure  memory  in  order  to  materialize 
them  progressively  by  contact  with  the  present 
perception. 

But  what  is  this  pure  memory,  what  are  pure 
recollections  ? By  the  answer  to  this  enquiry  we 
completed  the  demonstration  of  our  thesis.  We 
had  just  established  its  first  point,  that  is  to  say, 
that  memory  is  something  other  than  a function 
of  the  brain.  We  had  still  to  show,  by  the  analysis 


3i8 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


of  ‘ pure  recollection,’  that  there  is  not  between 
recollection  and  perception  a mere  d'fference  of 
degree  but  a radical  difference  of  kind. 

VII.  Let  us  point  out  to  begin  with  the  meta- 
physical, and  no  longer  merely  psychological, 

bearing  of  this  last  problem.  No  doubt 

different 

planes  o£  con-  we  have  a thesis  of  pure  psychology 

comnsnAQQ 

in  a proposition  such  as  this:  recol- 
lection is  a weakened  perception.  But  let  there 
be  no  mistake  : if  recollection  is  only  a weakened 
perception,  inversely  perception  must  be  some- 
thing like  an  intenser  memory.  Now  the  germ 
of  English  idealism  is  to  be  found  here.  This 
idealism  consists  in  finding  only  a difference  of 
degree,  and  not  of  kind,  between  the  reality  of  the 
object  perceived  and  the  ideality  of  the  object 
conceived.  And  the  belief  that  we  construct 
matter  from  our  interior  states  and  that  per- 
ception is  only  a true  hallucination,  also  arises 
from  this  thesis.  It  is  this  belief  that  we  have 
always  combated  whenever  we  have  treated  of 
matter.  Either,  then,  our  conception  of  matter 
is  false,  or  memory  is  radically  distinct  from 
perception. 

We  have  thus  transposed  a metaphysical  prob- 
lem so  as  to  make  it  coincide  with  a psycho- 
logical problem  which  direct  observation  is  able 
to  solve.  How  does  psychology  solve  it  ? If  the 
memory  of  a perception  were  but  this  perception 
weakened,  it  might  happen  to  us,  for  instance,  to 
take  the  perception  of  a slight  sound  for  the  recol- 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION  319 

lection  of  a loud  noise.  Now  such  a confusion 
never  occurs.  But  we  may  go  further,  and  say 
that  the  consciousness  of  a recollection  never 
occurs  as  an  actual  weak  state  which  we  try  to 
relegate  to  the  past  so  soon  as  we  become  aware 
of  its  weakness.  How,  indeed,  unless  we  already 
possessed  the  representation  of  a past  previously 
lived,  could  we  relegate  to  it  the  less  intense 
psychical  states,  when  it  would  be  so  simple  to 
set  them  alongside  of  strong  states  as  a present 
experience  more  confused  beside  a present  exper- 
ience more  distinct  ? The  truth  is  that  memory 
does  not  consist  in  a regression  from  the  present  to 
the  past,  but,  on  the  contrary,  in  a progress  from 
the  past  to  the  present.  It  is  in  the  past  that 
we  place  ourselves  at  a stroke.  We  start  from  a 
* virtual  state  ’ which  we  lead  onwards,  step  by 
step,  through  a series  of  different  planes  of  con- 
sciousness, up  to  the  goal  where  it  is  materialized 
in  an  actual  perception  ; that  is  to  say,  up  to 
the  point  where  it  becomes  a present,  active  state ; 
in  fine,  up  to  that  extreme  plane  of  our  conscious- 
ness against  which  our  body  stands  out.  In 
this  virtual  state  pure  memory  consists. 

How  is  it  that  the  testimony  of  consciousness  on 
this  point  is  misunderstood  ? How  is  it  that  we 
make  of  recollection  a weakened  perception,  of 
which  it  is  impossible  to  say  either  why  we  relegate 
it  to  the  past,  how  we  rediscover  its  date,  or 
by  what  right  it  reappears  at  one  moment  rather 
than  at  another  ? Simply  because  we  forget  the 


320 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


practical  end  of  all  onr  actual  psychical  states. 
Perception  is  made  into  a disinterested  work  of  the 
mind,  a pure  contemplation.  Then,  as  pure  recol- 
lection can  evidently  be  only  something  of  this 
kind  (since  it  does  not  correspond  to  a present 
and  urgent  reality),  memory  and  perception 
become  states  of  the  same  nature,  and  between 
them  no  other  difference  than  a difference  of  in- 
tensity can  be  found.  But  the  truth  is  that  our 
present  should  not  be  defined  as  that  which  is 
more  intense  : it  is  that  which  acts  on  us  and 
which  makes  us  act,  it  is  sensory  and  it  is 
motor  ; — our  present  is,  above  all,  the  state  of 
our  body.  Our  past,  on  the  contrary,  is  that 
which  acts  no  longer  but  which  might  act, 
and  will  act  by  inserting  itself  into  a present 
sensation  of  which  it  borrows  the  vitality.  It 
is  true  that,  from  the  moment  when  the  recol- 
lection actualizes  itself  in  this  manner,  it  ceases 
to  be  a recollection  and  becomes  once  more  a 
perception. 

We  understand  then  why  a remembrance  can- 
not be  the  result  of  a state  of  the  brain.  The  state 
of  the  brain  continues  the  remembrance  ; it  gives 
it  a hold  on  the  present  by  the  materiality  which 
it  confers  upon  it  : but  pure  memory  is  a spiritual 
manifestation.  With  memory  we  are  in  very  truth 
in  the  domain  of  spirit. 

Association-  VIIL  lt  WaS  n0t  0Ur  task  t0  eX' 

genera]d  plore  this  domain.  Placed  at  the  con- 

ideas.  fluence  of  mind  and  matter,  desirous 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION 


321 


chiefly  of  seeing  the  one  flow  into  the  other,  we 
had  only  to  retain,  of  the  spontaneity  of  intellect, 
its  place  of  conjunction  with  bodily  mechanism. 
In  this  way  we  were  led  to  consider  the  phenomena 
of  association  and  the  birth  of  the  simplest  general 
ideas. 

What  is  the  cardinal  error  of  associationism  ? 
It  is  to  have  set  all  recollections  on  the  same  plane, 
to  have  misunderstood  the  greater  or  less  distance 
which  separates  them  from  the  present  bodily 
state,  that  is  from  action.  Thus  associationism 
is  unable  to  explain  either  how  the  recollection 
clings  to  the  perception  which  evokes  it,  or 
why  association  is  effected  by  similarity  or  con- 
tiguity rather  than  in  any  other  way,  or,  finally,  by 
what  caprice  a particular  recollection  is  chosen 
among  the  thousand  others  which  similarity  or 
contiguity  might  equally  well  attach  to  the  present 
perception.  This  means  that  associationism  has 
mixed  and  confounded  all  the  different  planes  of 
consciousness,  and  that  it  persists  in  regarding  a less 
complete  as  a less  complex  recollection,  whereas 
it  is  in  reality  a recollection  less  dreamed,  more 
impersonal,  nearer  to  action  and  therefore  more 
capable  of  moulding  itself — like  a ready-made 
garment — upon  the  new  character  of  the  present 
situation.  The  opponents  of  associationism  have, 
moreover,  followed  it  on  to  this  ground.  They 
combat  the  theory  because  it  explains  the  higher 
operations  of  the  mind  by  association,  but  not 
because  it  misunderstands  the  true  nature  of 


322 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


association  itself.  Yet  this  is  the  original  vice  of 
associationism. 

Between  the  plane  of  action — the  plane  in  which 
our  body  has  condensed  its  past  into  motor  habits, 
— and  the  plane  of  pure  memory,  where  our  mind 
retains  in  all  its  details  the  picture  of  our  past  life, 
we  believe  that  we  can  discover  thousands  of 
different  planes  of  consciousness,  a thousand 
integral  and  yet  diverse  repetitions  of  the  whole  of 
the  experience  through  which  we  have  lived.  To 
complete  a recollection  by  more  personal  details 
does  not  at  all  consist  in  mechanically  juxtaposing 
other  recollections  to  this,  but  in  transporting 
ourselves  to  a wider  plane  of  consciousness,  in 
going  away  from  action  in  the  direction  of  dream. 
Neither  does  the  localizing  of  a recollection  con- 
sist in  inserting  it  mechanically  among  other 
memories,  but  in  describing,  by  an  increasing 
expansion  of  the  memory  as  a whole,  a circle  large 
enough  to  include  this  detail  from  the  past.  These 
planes,  moreover,  are  not  given  as  ready-made 
things  superposed  the  one  on  the  other.  Rather 
they  exist  virtually,  with  that  existence  which  is 
proper  to  things  of  the  spirit.  The  intellect,  for 
ever  moving  in  the  interval  which  separates  them, 
unceasingly  finds  them  again,  or  creates  them  anew : 
the  life  of  intellect  consists  in  this  very  movement. 
Then  we  understand  why  the  laws  of  association 
are  similarity  and  contiguity  rather  than  any  other 
laws,  and  why  memory  chooses  among  recollec- 
tions which  are  similar  or  contiguous  certain 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION  323 

images  rather  than  other  images,  and,  finally, 
how  by  the  combined  work  of  body  and  mind  the 
earliest  general  ideas  are  formed.  The  interest 
of  a living  being  lies  in  discovering  in  the  present 
situation  that  which  resembles  a former  situation, 
and  then  in  placing  alongside  of  that  present 
situation  what  preceded  and  followed  the  previous 
one,  in  order  to  profit  by  past  experience.  Of  all 
the  associations  which  can  be  imagined,  those  of 
resemblance  and  contiguity  are  therefore  at  first 
the  only  associations  that  have  a vital  utility. 
But,  in  order  to  understand  the  mechanism  of 
these  associations  and  above  all  the  apparently 
capricious  selection  which  they  make  of  mem- 
ories, we  must  place  ourselves  alternately  on 
the  two  extreme  planes  of  consciousness  which 
we  have  called  the  plane  of  action  and  the  plane 
of  dream.  In  the  first  are  displayed  only  motor 
habits  ; these  may  be  called  associations  which  are 
acted  or  lived,  rather  than  represented : here 

resemblance  and  contiguity  are  fused  together, 
for  analogous  external  situations,  as  they  recur, 
have  ended  by  connecting  together  certain  bodily 
movements,  and  thenceforward  the  same  auto- 
matic reaction,  in  which  we  unfold  these  contiguous 
movements,  will  also  draw  from  the  situation 
which  occasions  them  its  resemblance  with  former 
situations.  But,  as  we  pass  from  movements  to 
images  and  from  poorer  to  richer  images,  resem- 
blance and  contiguity  part  company  : they  end 
by  contrasting  sharply  with  each  other  on  that 


324 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


other  extreme  plane  where  no  action  is  any 
longer  affixed  to  the  images.  The  choice  of 
one  resemblance  among  many,  of  one  contig- 
uity among  others,  is,  therefore,  not  made  at 
random  : it  depends  on  the  ever  varying  de- 
gree of  the  tension  of  memory,  which,  according 
to  its  tendency  to  insert  itself  in  the  present 
act  or  to  withdraw  from  it,  transposes  itself  as 
a whole  from  one  key  into  another.  And  this 
double  movement  of  memory  between  its  two  ex- 
treme limits  also  sketches  out,  as  we  have  shown, 
the  first  general  ideas, — motor  habits  ascending  to 
seek  similar  images  in  order  to  extract  resemblances 
from  them,  and  similar  images  coming  down 
towards  motor  habits,  to  fuse  themselves,  for 
instance,  in  the  automatic  utterance  of  the  word 
which  makes  them  one.  The  nascent  generality 
of  the  idea  consists,  then,  in  a certain  activity  of 
the  mind,  in  a movement  between  action  and 
representation.  And  this  is  why,  as  we  have  said, 
it  will  always  be  easy  for  a certain  philosophy  to 
localize  the  general  idea  at  one  of  the  two  ex- 
tremities, to  make  it  crystallize  into  words  or 
evaporate  into  memories,  whereas  it  really  consists 
in  the  transit  of  the  mind  as  it  passes  from  one 
term  to  the  other. 

IX.  By  representing  elementary  mental  acti- 
vity in  this  manner  to  ourselves,  and  by  thus 
making  of  our  body  and  all  that  sur- 
othbody°n  rounds  it  the  pointed  end  ever  moving, 
attd  mmd'  ever  driven  into  the  future  by  the 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION 


325 


weight  of  our  past,  we  were  able  to  confirm  and 
illustrate  what  we  had  said  of  the  function  of  the 
body,  and  at  the  same  time  to  prepare  the  way 
for  an  approximation  of  body  and  mind. 

For  after  having  successively  studied  pure 
perception  and  pure  memory,  we  still  had  to  bring 
them  together.  If  pure  recollection  is  already 
spirit,  and  if  pure  perception  is  still  in  a sense 
matter,  we  ought  to  be  able,  by  placing  ourselves 
at  their  meeting  place,  to  throw  some  light  on 
the  reciprocal  action  of  spirit  and  matter.  ‘ Pure/ 
that  is  to  say  instantaneous,  perception  is,  in  fact, 
only  an  ideal,  an  extreme.  Every  perception  fills 
a certain  depth  of  duration,  prolongs  the  past 
into  the  present,  and  thereby  partakes  of  memory. 
So  that  if  we  take  perception  in  its  concrete 
form,  as  a synthesis  of  pure  memory  and  pure 
perception,  that  is  to  say  of  mind  and  matter,  we 
compress  within  its  narrowest  limits  the  problem 
of  the  union  of  soul  and  body.  This  is  the  attempt 
we  have  made  especially  in  the  latter  part  of  this 
essay. 

The  opposition  of  the  two  principles,  in  dualism 
in  general,  resolves  itself  into  the  threefold  opposi- 
tion of  the  inextended  and  the  extended,  quality 
and  quantity,  freedom  and  necessity.  If  our 
conception  of  the  function  of  the  body,  if  our 
analyses  of  pure  perception  and  pure  memory, 
are  destined  to  throw  light  on  any  aspect  of  the 
correlation  of  body  and  mind,  it  can  only  be  on 
condition  of  suppressing  or  toning  down  these 


326 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


Extension. 


three  oppositions.  We  will,  then,  examine  them  in 
turn,  presenting  here  in  a more  metaphysical 
form  the  conclusions  which  we  have  made  a 
point  of  drawing  from  psychology  alone. 

ist.  If  we  imagine  on  the  one  hand  the  extended 
really  divided  into  corpuscles,  for  example,  and 
on  the  other  a consciousness  with  sen- 
sations, in  themselves  inextensive,  which 
come  to  project  themselves  into  space,  we  shall 
evidently  find  nothing  common  to  such  matter 
and  such  a consciousness,  to  body  and  mind. 
But  this  opposition  between  perception  and  matter 
is  the  artificial  work  of  an  understanding  which 
decomposes  and  recomposes  according  to  its 
habits  or  its  laws  : it  is  not  given  in  immediate 
intuition.  What  is  given  are  not  inextensive  sen- 
sations : how  should  they  find  their  way  back  to 
space,  choose  a locality  within  it,  and  coordinate 
themselves  there  so  as  to  build  up  an  experience 
that  is  common  to  all  men  ? And  what  is  real 
is  not  extension,  divided  into  independent  parts : 
how,  being  deprived  of  all  possible  relationship 
to  our  consciousness,  could  it  unfold  a series 
of  changes  of  which  the  relations  and  the  order 
exactly  correspond  to  the  relations  and  the  order 
of  our  representations  ? That  which  is  given, 
that  which  is  real,  is  something  intermediate 
between  divided  extension  and  pure  inexten- 
sion. It  is  what  we  have  termed  the  extensive. 
Extensity  is  the  most  salient  quality  of  percep 
tion.  It  is  in  consolidating  and  in  subdividing 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION  327 

it  by  means  of  an  abstract  space,  stretched  by 
us  beneath  it  for  the  needs  of  action,  that  we 
constitute  the  composite  and  infinitely  divisible 
extension.  It  is,  on  the  other  hand,  in  subtilizing 
it,  in  making  it,  in  turn,  dissolve  into  affective 
sensations  and  evaporate  into  a counterfeit  of 
pure  ideas,  that  we  obtain  those  inextensive 
sensations  with  which  we  afterwards  vainly 
endeavour  to  reconstitute  images.  And  the  two 
opposite  directions  in  which  we  pursue  this 
double  labour  open  quite  naturally  before  us, 
because  it  is  a result  of  the  very  necessities  of 
action  that  extension  should  divide  itself  up 
for  us  into  absolutely  independent  objects  (whence 
an  encouragement  to  go  on  subdividing  extension) ; 
and  that  we  should  pass  by  insensible  degrees  from 
affection  to  perception  (whence  a tendency  to 
suppose  perception  more  and  more  inextensive). 
But  our  understanding,  of  which  the  func- 
tion is  to  set  up  logical  distinctions,  and  con- 
sequently clean-cut  oppositions,  throws  itself 
into  each  of  these  ways  in  turn,  and  follows  each 
to  the  end.  It  thus  sets  up,  at  one  extremity, 
an  infinitely  divisible  extension,  at  the  other 
sensations  which  are  absolutely  inextensive.  And 
it  creates  thereby  the  opposition  which  it  after- 
wards contemplates  amazed. 

2nd.  Far  less  artificial  is  the  opposition  between 
quality  and  quantity,  that  is  to  say  between 
consciousness  and  movement : but  this 
opposition  is  radical  only  if  we  have 


Tension. 


328  MATTER  AND  MEMORY 

already  accepted  the  other.  For  if  you  suppose 
that  the  qualities  of  things  are  nothing  but  inex- 
tensive  sensations  affecting  a consciousness,  so 
that  these  qualities  represent  merely,  as  so 
many  symbols,  homogeneous  and  calculable 
changes  going  on  in  space,  you  must  imagine  be- 
tween these  sensations  and  these  changes  an 
incomprehensible  correspondence.  On  the  con- 
trary, as  soon  as  you  give  up  establishing  be- 
tween them  a 'priori  this  factitious  contrariety, 
you  see  the  barriers  which  seemed  to  separate 
them  fall  one  after  another.  First,  it  is  not 
true  that  consciousness,  turned  round  on  itself,  is 
confronted  with  a merely  internal  procession  of 
inextensive  perceptions.  It  is  inside  the  very 
things  perceived  that  you  put  back  pure  percep- 
tion, and  the  first  obstacle  is  thus  removed.  You 
are  confronted  with  a second,  it  is  true  : the  homo- 
geneous and  calculable  changes  on  which  science 
works  seem  to  belong  to  multiple  and  independent 
elements,  such  as  atoms,  of  which  these  changes 
appear  as  mere  accidents,  and  this  multiplicity 
comes  in  between  the  perception  and  its  object. 
But  if  the  division  of  the  extended  is  purely 
relative  to  our  possible  action  upon  it,  the  idea 
of  independent  corpuscles  is  a fortiori  schematic 
and  provisional.  Science  itself,  moreover,  allows 
us  to  discard  it ; and  so  the  second  barrier  falls. 
A last  interval  remains  to  be  over-leapt  : that 
which  separates  the  heterogeneity  of  qualities  from 
the  apparent  homogeneity  of  movements  that 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION 


329 


are  extended.  But,  just  because  we  have  set 
aside  the  elements,  atoms  or  what  not,  to 
which  these  movements  had  been  affixed,  we 
are  no  longer  dealing  with  that  movement  which 
is  the  accident  of  a moving  body,  with  that 
abstract  motion  which  the  mechanician  studies 
and  which  is  nothing,  at  bottom,  but  the  common 
measure  of  concrete  movements.  How  could  this 
abstract  motion,  which  becomes  immobility  when 
we  alter  our  point  of  reference,  be  the  basis  of 
real  changes,  that  is,  of  changes  that  are  felt  ? 
How,  composed  as  it  is  of  a series  of  instantaneous 
positions,  could  it  fill  a duration  of  which  the  parts 
go  over  and  merge  each  into  the  others  ? Only  one 
hypothesis,  then,  remains  possible;  namely,  that 
concrete  movement,  capable,  like  consciousness, 
of  prolonging  its  past  into  its  present,  capable, 
by  repeating  itself,  of  engendering  sensible  quali- 
ties, already  possesses  something  akin  to  con- 
ciousness,  something  akin  to  sensation.  On  this 
theory,  it  might  be  this  same  sensation  diluted, 
spread  out  over  an  infinitely  larger  number  of 
moments,  this  same  sensation  quivering,  as  we 
have  said,  like  a chrysalis  within  its  envelope. 
Then  a last  point  would  remain  to  be  cleared 
up  : how  is  the  contraction  effected, — the  con- 
traction no  longer  of  homogeneous  movements 
into  distinct  qualities,  but  of  changes  that  are 
less  heterogeneous  into  changes  that  are  more 
heterogeneous  ? But  this  question  is  answered 
by  our  analysis  of  concrete  perception  : this 


330 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


perception,  the  living  synthesis  of  pure  per- 
ception and  pure  memory,  necessarily  sums  up 
in  its  apparent  simplicity  an  enormous  multi- 
plicity of  moments.  Between  sensible  qualities, 
as  regarded  in  our  representation  of  them, 
and  these  same  qualities  treated  as  calculable 
changes,  there  is  therefore  only  a difference  in 
rhythm  of  duration,  a difference  of  internal  ten- 
sion. Thus,  by  the  idea  of  tension  we  have 
striven  to  overcome  the  opposition  between  quality 
and  quantity,  as  by  the  idea  of  extension  that 
between  the  inextended  and  the  extended.  Exten- 
sion and  tension  admit  of  degrees,  multiple  but 
always  determined.  The  function  of  the  under- 
standing is  to  detach  from  these  two  genera, 
extension  and  tension,  their  empty  container, 
that  is  to  say,  homogeneous  space  and  pure 
quantity,  and  thereby  to  substitute,  for  supple 
realities  which  permit  of  degrees,  rigid  abstrac- 
tions born  of  the  needs  of  action,  which  can 
only  be  taken  or  left  ; and  to  create  thus,  for 
reflective  thought,  dilemmas  of  which  neither 
alternative  is  accepted  by  reality. 

3rd.  But  if  we  regard  in  this  way  the  relations 
of  the  extended  to  the  inextended,  of  quality 
Freedom  and  quantity,  we  shall  have  less  difficulty 
necessity.  jn  comprehending  the  third  and  last 
opposition,  that  of  freedom  and  necessity.  Abso- 
lute necessity  would  be  represented  by  a perfect 
equivalence  of  the  successive  moments  of  dura- 
tion, each  to  each.  Is  it  so  with  the  duration 


SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION 


331 


of  the  material  universe  ? Can  each  moment 
be  mathematically  deduced  from  the  preceding 
moment  ? We  have  throughout  this  work,  and 
for  the  convenience  of  study,  supposed  that  it 
was  really  so  ; and  such  is,  in  fact,  the  distance 
between  the  rhythm  of  our  duration  and  that  of 
the  flow  of  things,  that  the  contingency  of  the 
course  of  nature,  so  profoundly  studied  in  recent 
philosophy,  must,  for  us,  be  practically  equiva- 
lent to  necessity.  So  let  us  keep  to  our  hypo- 
thesis, though  it  might  have  to  be  attenuated. 
Even  so,  freedom  is  not  in  nature  an  im- 
fterium  in  imperio.  We  have  said  that  this 
nature  might  be  regarded  as  a neutralized  and 
consequently  a latent  consciousness,  a conscious- 
ness of  which  the  eventual  manifestations  hold 
each  other  reciprocally  in  check,  and  annul  each 
other  precisely  at  the  moment  when  they  might 
appear.  The  first  gleams  which  are  thrown  upon 
it  by  an  individual  consciousness  do  not  therefore 
shine  on  it  with  an  unheralded  light  : this  con- 
sciousness does  but  remove  an  obstacle ; it  extracts 
from  the  whole  that  is  real  a part  that  is  virtual, 
chooses  and  finally  disengages  that  which  interests 
it ; and  although,  by  that  intelligent  choice,  it  indeed 
manifests  that  it  owes  to  spirit  its  form,  it  assuredly 
takes  from  nature  its  matter.  Moreover,  while 
we  watch  the  birth  of  that  consciousness  we  are 
confronted,  at  the  same  time,  by  the  apparition 
of  living  bodies,  capable,  even  in  their  simplest 
forms,  of  movements  spontaneous  and  unforeseen. 


332 


MATTER  AND  MEMORY 


The  progress  of  living  matter  consists  in  a 
differentiation  of  function  which  leads  first  to 
the  production  and  then  to  the  increasing  com- 
plication of  a nervous  system  capable  of  canali- 
zing excitations  and  of  organizing  actions  : 
the  more  the  higher  centres  develop,  the  more 
numerous  become  the  motor  paths  among  which 
the  same  excitation  allows  the  living  being  to 
choose,  in  order  that  it  may  act.  An  ever  greater 
latitude  left  to  movement  in  space— this  indeed 
is  what  is  seen.  What  is  not  seen  is  the  growing 
and  accompanying  tension  of  consciousness  in 
time.  Not  only,  by  its  memory  of  former  experi- 
ence, does  this  consciousness  retain  the  past  better 
and  better,  so  as  to  organize  it  with  the  present  in 
a newer  and  richer  decision  ; but,  living  with  an 
intenser  life,  contracting,  by  its  memory  of  the 
immediate  experience,  a growing  number  of  exter- 
nal moments  in  its  present  duration,  it  becomes 
more  capable  of  creating  acts  of  which  the  inner 
indetermination,  spread  over  as  large  a multi- 
plicity of  the  moments  of  matter  as  you  please, 
will  pass  the  more  easily  through  the  meshes  of 
necessity.  Thus,  whether  we  consider  it  in  time 
or  in  space,  freedom  always  seems  to  have  its 
roots  deep  in  necessity  and  to  be  intimately 
organized  with  it.  Spirit  borrows  from  matter  the 
perceptions  on  which  it  feeds,  and  restores  them 
to  matter  in  the  form  of  movements  which  it 
has  stamped  with  its  own  freedom. 


INDEX 


Achilles,  The,  of  Zeno,  252. 

Action,  and  pure  knowledge,  xvii ; 
and  pure  memory,  planes  of,  210  ; 
and  time,  23  ; necessary,  6 ; needs 
of,  and  bodies,  261  ; orientation 
of  consciousness  towards,  233  ; 
plane  of,  130,  217 ; possible,  7 ; 
real  and  virtual,  310  ; reflex  and 
voluntary,  81  ; the  true  point  of 
departure,  67  ; useful,  and  pure 
knowledge,  262  ; virtual  and  real, 
57- 

Actual  sensation  and  pure  memory 
differ  in  kind,  179. 

Adaptation,  the  general  aim  of  life, 

96. 

Adler,  143. 

Affection,  310  ; always  localized,  61  ; 
and  perception,  difference  between, 
53  ; has,  from  the  outset,  some 
extensity,  61  ; impurity  in  percep- 
tion, 60  ; its  source,  57. 

Affections,  1 ; an  invitation  to  act,  2. 

Affective  states,  vaguely  localized,  52. 

Amnesia,  retrogressive,  224. 

Amnesias,  systematized,  222. 

Aphasia,  231  ; cases  of,  139 ; con- 
ception of,  xv  ; diagrams  of  sen- 
sory, 156  ; sensory,  149  ; sensory, 
evidence  from  certain  forms  of,  139. 

Aphasias,  the  true,  15 1. 

Apraxia,  in. 

Arnaud,  141,  note  ; 142,  note. 

Arrow,  The,  of  Zeno,  252. 

Association,  not  the  primary  fact, 
215  ; of  ideas,  in  what  it  consists, 
103  ; of  ideas,  laws  of,  212  ; of 
perceptions  with  memory,  106. 

Associations,  of  similarity  and  con- 
tiguity, 212  ff. 

Associationism,  error  of,  171,  212, 
321  ; intellect  ualizes  ideas  too 
much,  213. 

Attention,  and  recognition,  119  ; a 
power  of  analysis,  124  ; compared 
to  telegraph-clerk,  123  ; first,  an 
adaptation  of  the  body,  120  ; nega- 
tively, inhibition  of  movement, 
120  ■ perception  and  memory, 


relations  of,  120  ff. ; to  life,  xiv, 
226  ; to  life,  conditioned  by  body, 
225. 

Atom,  Faraday’s  theory  of,  265  ; 
Kelvin’s  theory  of,  265  ; modem 
theories  of,  266  ; properties  of,  263. 

Auditory,  image,  99  ; memory,  133  ; 
memory  of  words,  161. 

Automatic,  the,  and  the  voluntary, 
145. 

Automatism,  1 10  ; wide  range  of,  99. 

Babil6e,  149  note. 

Bain,  161. 

Ball,  201  note,  229  note. 

Ballet,  144  note. 

Bastian,  121  note,  140,  157  note. 

Bateman,  101  note,  141  note. 

Becoming,  instantaneous  section  of, 

86. 

Berkeley,  and  Descartes,  ix  ; and 
• mechanical  philosophers,’  ix  ; and 
the  object,  viii  ; on  extensity,  284 

ff. 

Berlin,  101  note. 

Bernard,  10 1 note,  109  note,  144 
note,  149  note,  153  note,  156  note. 

Blindness  and  deafness,  psychic,  132  ; 
word,  132  ; psychic,  108,  in,  161  ; 
psychic,  as  a disturbance  of  motor 
habit,  115  ; psychic,  two  kinds  of, 
115  ; word,  two  kinds  of,  133. 

Bodies,  distinct,  and  the  needs  of  life, 
261. 

Body,  a centre  of  action,  5,  178 ; a 
centre  of  perceptions,  43  ; and 
mind,  relation  of,  295  ; and  soul, 
relation  of,  234  ; an  instrument  of 
action,  299 ; an  instrument  of 
choice,  233  ; a moving  boundary 
between  future  and  past,  88  ; a 
moving,  trajectory  of,  246 ; a 
place  of  passage,  196  ; conditions 
attention  to  life,  225  ; conscious- 
ness of,  is  my  present,  177  ; does 
not  give  rise  to  representation,  5 ; 
education  of,  139  ; is  that  which 
fixes  the  mind,  226  ; known  from 
within  as  well  as  from  without,  1 ; 


334 


INDEX 


provides  for  the  exercise  of  choice, 
5 ; receives  and  gives  back  move- 
ment, 5 ; structure  of,  3 ; the 
living,  its  unique  place,  1. 

Bradley,  120  note. 

Brain,  and  memory,  relation  between, 
1 19;  an  instrument  of  analysis 
and  of  choice,  20 ; a telephonic 
exchange,  19  ; cannot  beget  repre- 
sentation, 81  ; concerned  with 
motor  reaction,  8 ; functions  of 
the,  18  ; injuries  to  the,  effect  of, 
231  ; lesions  affect  movements, 
not  recollections,  88  ; lesions  affect 
nascent  or  possible  action,  120 ; 
lesions  and  recognition,  attentive 
and  inattentive,  132  ; lesions  and 
the  motor  diagram,  143  ; not  con- 
cerned with  conscious  perception,  8. 

Broadbent,  101  note,  156. 

Brochard,  106  note. 

Centre  of  representation,  the  body,  64. 

Centres,  of  force,  265  ; of  perception, 
160 ; of  verbal  images,  problem- 
atic, 159. 

Cerebral,  localization,  1 31;  mechanism, 
conditions  memories,  does  not 
ensure  their  survival,  84 ; me- 
chanism, links  the  past  with  action, 
88  ; vibrations,  cannot  create 
images,  10  ; vibrations,  contained 
in  the  material  world,  10. 

Change,  and  permanence,  260. 

Character,  a synthesis  of  past  states, 
188. 

Charcot,  109,  143,  156. 

Chemistry,  studies  bodies  rather  than 
matter,  263. 

Clerk- Maxwell,  263  note. 

Colours,  and  rhythm  of  movement, 
268. 

Common  sense,  and  matter,  x ; and 
object,  viii. 

Conceptualism  and  nominalism, 
criticism  of,  202. 

Consciousness,  actual,  deals  with 
useful,  rejects  the  superfluous,  188  ; 
and  matter,  276  ff.;  and  the  inner 
history  of  things,  276  ; chief  office 
of,  182  ; different  planes  of,  318  ff.  ; 
double  movement  in,  216  ; illusion 
in  regard  to,  182  ; its  office  in  per- 
ception, 69  ; its  part  in  affection,  2 ; 
not  the  synonym  of  existence,  181  ; 
of  another  tension  than  ours,  275  ; 
orientation  of,  towards  action,  233  ; 
rhythm  of,  272  ; the  fringe  of,  97; 
the  note  of  the  present,  181. 

Conscious  perception,  a discernment, 
31  ; is  our  power  of  choice,  26  ; 
materialist’s  view  of,  11. 


Contiguity  and  similarity,  associa 
tions  of,  212  ff. 

Continuity,  universal,  and  science, 
260. 

Cowles,  228  note. 

Dawn,  of  human  experience,  241. 

Deafness,  and  blindness,  psychic,  132; 
and  blindness,  word,  132  ; psychic, 
does  not  hinder  hearing,  161  ; word, 
two  kinds  of,  133  ; word,  with  re- 
tention of  acoustic  memory,  142. 

Descartes,  and  Berkeley,  ix;  and 
the  laws  of  motion,  255. 

Diagram,  the  motor,  and  brain 
lesions,  143. 

Diagrams,  of  sensory  aphasia,  156. 

Dichotomy,  The,  of  Zeno,  251. 

Direction,  sense  of,  115. 

Dissociation,  is  primary,  215 

Dodds,  in  note. 

Dogmatism  and  empiricism,  ignore 
duration,  242. 

Drawing,  methods  of,  116. 

Dream,  plane  of,  129,  218  ; power  of, 
94- 

Dreamer,  the,  198. 

Dreams,  memory  in,  200. 

Drugs,  toxic,  effect  of,  228. 

Dualism,  ordinary,  293  ff. ; trans- 
cended, 236. 

Dunan,  286  note. 

Duration,  243  ; our  own,  and  quality, 
271  ; tension  of,  determines  the 
measure  of  liberty,  279  ; tensions  of 
275- 

Duval,  200  note. 

Dynamists  and  mechanists,  xvi. 

Dyslexie,  101  note. 


Ear,  the  mental,  166. 

Egger,  200  note. 

Eleatics,  paradoxes  of,  253. 

Empiricism  and  dogmatism,  239 ; 
ignore  duration,  242. 

Epiphenomenalism,  x. 

Epiphenomenon.and  recollection,  104. 

Equilibrium,  intellectual,  how  upset, 

225. 

Existence,  capital  problem  of,  189  ; 
conditions  implied  in,  189  ; im- 
plies conscious  apprehension  and 
regular  connexion,  190  ; outside  of 
consciousness,  183  ; real  though 
unperceived,  in  time  and  in  space, 
185. 

Exner,  and  empty  time,  272. 

Experience,  human,  dawn  of,  241  ; 
the  true  starting-point,  312. 

Extended,  the,  and  the  inextended, 
3*5- 


INDEX 


335 


Extension,  326  ; and  artificial  space, 

244  ; concrete,  not  bound  up  with 
inert  space,  244  ; idea  of,  237. 

Extensity,  and  inextension,  235  ; 
concrete,  and  homogeneous  space, 
278  ; concrete,  not  within  space, 
289  ; perceived,  space  conceived, 

245  ; perception  of  and  sight,  286  ; 
visual  and  tactile,  65. 

Exteriority,  notion  of,  42. 

Faraday,  and  centres  of  force,  31  ; 
and  the  atom,  265. 

Force,  centres  of,  31,  265  ; in  natural 
science,  257  ; metaphysical  sense 
of  the  word,  257. 

Fouillee,  112  note. 

Freedom  and  necessity,  279,  325  ff., 
330  ff.  ; degrees  of,  296  ; two  op- 
posing points  of  view  concerning, 
243- 

Freud,  157  note. 

Future,  no  grasp  of  without  outlook 
over  past,  69. 

General  idea,  essence  of  the,  210. 

Generality,  202. 

Genus,  general  idea  of,  209. 

Goldsch  eider,  125. 

Granville,  Mortimer,  101  note. 

Grashey,  125,  15 1 note. 

Graves,  153  note. 

Habit,  89  ; interpreted  by  memory, 
the  study  of  psychologists,  95. 

Habit-memory,  90  ; acts,  not  repre- 
sents, the  past,  93  ; advantageous, 
94  ; comparatively  rare,  94  ; in- 
hibits spontaneous  memory,  97 ; 
sets  up  a machine,  95. 

Habits,  amassed  in  the  body,  92  ; 
formed  in  action,  influence  specu- 
lation, xvi. 

Hallucinations,  negative,  151 ; veri- 
dical, 73. 

Hamilton,  r2i  note. 

Hearing,  intelligent,  starts  from  the 
idea,  145  ; mental,  149. 

Heterogeneity,  qualitative,  76. 

Hoffding,  107  note. 

Human  experience,  dawn  of,  241. 

Idea,  and  sound,  in  speech,  154. 

Ideas,  association  of,  laws  of  the,  212. 

Ideas,  general,  201,  321  ; always  in 
movement,  2x0  ; first  experienced, 
then  represented,  208  ; the  essence 
of,  210. 

Idealism,  and  materialism,  236 ; 
and  realism,  vii  ; and  realism, 
have  a common  postulate,  17,  283  ; 


English,  282,  287,  289 ; makes 
science  an  accident,  x6  ; the  reef 
on  which  it  is  wrecked,  301. 

Idealist,  the,  starts  from  perception, 
14- 

Idealists  and  realists,  xvi. 

Image,  a privileged,  64  ; formed  in 
the  object,  35  ; none  without  an 
object,  38 ; present  and  repre- 
senting, 28  ; representation  and 
thing,  vii ; visual  or  auditory,  99. 

Image-centre,  a kind  of  keyboard, 
165. 

Image-centres,  X32. 

Images,  and  the  body,  x ; belong  to 
two  systems,  12  ; never  any  thing 
but  things,  159  ; not  created  by 
cerebral  vibrations,  10  ; preserved 
for  use,  70  ; recognition  of,  86 ; 
the  delimiting  and  fixing  of,  233. 

Imagination,  is  not  memory,  173. 

Indetermination,  of  the  will,  35  ; re- 
quires preservation  of  images  per- 
ceived, 69  ; the  true  principle,  21. 

Inextended,  the,  and  the  extended, 
325- 

Inextension,  and  extensity,  235. 

Insanity,  a disturbance  of  the  sensori- 
motor relations,  228  ; and  present 
reality,  227. 

Intellectual  equilibrium,  how  upset, 

225- 

Intellectual  process,  two  radically 
distinct  conceptions  of,  127. 

Interpretation,  general  problem  of,  145 

Intuition,  actual  and  remembered, 
70  ; and  contact  with  the  real,  241 ; 
pure,  gives  an  undivided  continu- 
ity, 239. 

James,  William,  12 1 note,  286  note, 
289  note. 

Janet,  Paul,  286  note. 

Janet,  Pierre,  xv  note,  151  note,  229 
note,  230  note  ; study  of  neuroses, 
xv. 

Kant,  289  note ; and  diversity  of 
phenomena,  244  ; and  speculative 
reason,  241  ; and  the  impersonal 
understanding,  306  ; on  space  and 
time,  281. 

Kantian  criticism,  ix. 

Kay,  X02  note,  199  note. 

Kelvin,  and  the  atom,  265. 

Keyboard,  the  internal,  165. 

Knowledge,  relativity  of,  241  ; useful 
and  true,  243. 

Kiilpe,  125. 

Kussmaul,  111  note,  141,  156  note 

Lange,  122  note. 


INDEX 


336 


Language,  elaborate  and  primitive, 
158  ; the  hearing  of  an  unknown, 
134- 

Laquer,  in  note. 

Learning  by  heart,  89  ff. 

Lehmann,  105  note. 

Leibniz,  on  Descartes,  255. 
Leibnizian  monads,  31. 

Lepine,  200  note. 

Lesions,  brain  and  the  motor  diagram, 
143- 

Liberty,  measure  of  determined  by 
tension  of  duration,  279. 
Lichtheim,  140,  142  note,  156  note. 
Light,  red,  272. 

Lissauer,  108,  116,  117. 

Living  matter,  progress  of,  67. 
Localization,  cerebral,  131. 

Lotze,  50. 

Luciani,  162  note. 


Magnan,  157  note. 

Man  of  impulse,  198. 

Marillier,  120  note,  121  note. 

Marce,  141  note. 

Materialism  and  idealism,  236. 

Materialism  and  spiritualism,  13. 

Materialism,  essence  of,  79  ; true 
method  of  refuting,  80. 

Materiality,  begets  oblivion,  232. 

Matter,  an  aggregate  of  images,  vii ; 
and  common  sense,  vii  ; and  con- 
sciousness, 276  ff.  ; and  percep- 
tion, vii,  76  ; and  perception,  differ 
only  in  degree,  78 ; and  percep- 
tion, kinship  of,  292  ; and  spirit, 
reciprocal  action  of,  325  ; and 
spirit,  transition  between,  295  ; 
an  ever  renewed  present,  178 ; 
artificial  division  of,  259 ; coin- 
cides with  pure  perception,  81 ; 
considered  before  dissociation  into 
existence  and  appearance,  viii  ; 
definition  of,  8 ; existence  and 
essence  of,  xvi ; has  no  occult 
power,  78,  81  ; in  concrete  per- 
ception, 237  ; living,  progress  of, 
332  ; metaphysic  of,  295  ; not  the 
substratum  of  a knowledge,  82  ; 
philosophers’  conception  of,  vii  ; 
philosophical  theory  of,  262  ff.  ; 
philosophy  of,  80  ; the  vehicle  of 
an  action,  82. 

Maudsley,  in,  12 1 note. 

Maury,  200  note. 

‘ Mechanical  philosophers  ’ and  Berke- 
ley, ix. 

Mechanism  of  speech,  139. 

Mechanists  and  dynamists,  xvi. 

Memories,  conditioned  by  cerebral 
mechanism,  84  ; supposed  destruc- 


tion of,  160  ; where  stored.  Fal- 
lacy involved,  191. 

Memory,  actualized  in  an  image  dif- 
fers from  pure  memory,  181  ; and 
brain,  86  ; and  brain,  relation  be- 
tween, 1 19  ; and  perception  point 
to  action,  302  ; a principle  inde- 
pendent of  matter,  81  ; a privileged 
problem,  xii,  83  ; auditory,  of 
words,  147  ; bodily  and  true,  their 
relation,  197  ; capital  importance 
of  problem  of,  80  ; circles  of,  127  ; 
contraction  of,  129  ; different 
planes  of,  129  ; empirical  study  of, 
83  ; expansion  of,  128  ; function 
of,  in  relation  to  things,  279  ; gives 
subjective  character  to  perception, 
80  ; habit,  recalls  similarity,  201  ; 
habit,  inhibits  spontaneous  me- 
mory, 97  ; how  it  becomes  actual, 
162  ; independent,  an  appeal  to, 
90  ; in  dreams,  200  ; intersec  lion 
of  mind  and  matter,  xii  ; is  spirit, 
313 ; its  apparent  oneness  with 
the  body,  82  ; its  part  in  percep- 
tion, 70 ; its  twofold  operation, 
80  ; loss  of,  149  ; mixed  forms  of, 
103  ; needs  motor  aid  to  become 
actual,  152  ; not  a manifestation 
of  matter,  313  ; not  an  emanation 
of  matter,  237  ; not  destroyed  by 
brain  lesions,  132  ; of  a sensation 
is  not  a nascent  sensation,  174  ; of 
words,  localization  of  denied,  xv ; 
perception  and  attention,  relations 
of,  120  ff.  ; phenomena  of,  81  ; 
primary  function  of,  303  ; psycho- 
logical mechanism  of,  82  ; psycho- 
logy of,  295  ; pure,  and  action, 
planes  of,  210  ; pure,  and  the 
memory-image,  170  ; pure,  de- 
tached from  life,  179  ; pure,  differs 
in  kind  from  actual  sensation,  179  ; 
pure,  inextensive  and  powerless, 
180  ; pure,  interests  no  part  of  the 
body,  179  ; pure,  its  reference  to 
spirit,  78  ; representative,  94  ff.; 
reverberation,  in  consciousness,  of 
indetermination,  70  ; spontaneous, 
in  children  and.savages,  198  ; spon- 
taneous, its  exaltation  and  inhibi- 
tion, 98  ; spontaneous,  recalls  dif- 
ferences, 201  ; subjective  side  of 
knowledge,  25  ; supplanting  per- 
ception, 24  ; the  condensing  power 
of,  76 ; the  two  forms  of,  89  ff.;  to  be 
sought  apart  from  motor  adapta- 
tion, 1 19  ; true,  records  every  mo- 
ment of  duration,  94  ; two  forms, 
support  each  other,  98  ; two  kinds 
of,  195 ; visual,  108. 

Memory-image,  and  habit  memory. 


INDEX 


337 


their  coalescence,  103  ; and  motor 
habit,  distinct  in  kind,  103  ; and 
pure  memory,  170. 

Memory-images,  and  recognition,  92  ; 
and  the  normal  consciousness,  96  ; 
recognition  by,  118  ; utility  deter- 
mines retention  of,  97. 

Mental  and  physical,  the,  not  mere 
duplicates,  300. 

Mental  functions,  utilitarian  char- 
acter of,  xvii. 

Mental  hearing,  149. 

Mental  life,  tones  of,  221. 

Mental  states,  unconscious,  183. 

Metaphysical  problems,  empirical 
solution  of,  83. 

Metaphysics  and  psychology,  relation 
of,  xv. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  and  possible  sensation,  306. 

Mind,  and  body,  relation  of,  295  ; 
degree  of  tension  of,  126  ; normal 
work  of,  225. 

Mnemonics,  iox. 

Moeli,  157  note. 

Moment,  the  present,  how  consti- 
tuted, 178. 

More,  Henry,  and  Descartes,  255. 

Moreau  de  Tours,  228  note. 

Motion,  and  its  cause,  257 ; in 
mechanics,  only  an  abstraction, 
268. 

Motor  aphasia,  does  not  involve  word 
deafness,  138. 

Motor  apparatus,  in  course  of  con- 
struction, 1 12. 

‘ Motor  diagram,’  the,  134,  136,  153  ; 
and  brain  lesions,  143. 

Movement,  absolutely  indivisible,  246 
ff.  ; and  its  trajectory,  250  ff.  ; 
as  a change  of  quality,  258  ; can 
only  produce  movement,  119 ; 
essence  of,  291  ; real,  akin  to  con- 
sciousness, 267 ; real,  and  ap- 
parent, 258  ; real,  for  the  physi- 
cist, 254  ; real,  quality  rather  than 
quantity,  267  ; real,  the  transfer- 
ence of  a state,  267  ; relative,  for 
the  mathematician,  254  ; rhythm 
of,  and  colours,  268  ; rhythm  of, 
and  sounds,  269. 

Movements,  consolidated,  difficulty 
in  modifying  their  order,  112  ; 
indivisibles,  occupying  duration, 
268  ; in  space  and  qualities  in 
consciousness,  267 ; of  imitation, 
124 ; prepare  the  choice  among 
memory- images,  1x3  ; real,  not 
merely  change  of  position,  256. 

Moving  body,  246  ff. 

Muller,  100  note,  108,  116,  125. 

Miinck,  107  note. 

Miinsterberg,  125. 


Necessity,  and  freedom,  325,  330  ff  ; 
natural  and  freedom,  279. 

Negative  hallucinations,  151. 

Nerves,  section  of,  7. 

Nervous  system,  3,  17,  227  ; a con- 
ductor, 40  ; channel  for  the  trans- 
mission of  movements,  81  ; con- 
structed in  view  of  action,  21. 

Newton,  257  note. 

Nominalism  and  conceptualism, 
criticism  of,  202  ff. 

Object,  the,  and  common  sense,  viii. 

Objects  and  facts  are  carved  out  of 
reality,  239. 

Oblivion  and  materiality,  232. 

Oppenheim,  99  note. 

Order  of  representation,  necessary  or 
contingent,  187. 

Orientation  of  consciousness,  towards 
action,  233. 

Pain,  a local  effort,  56  ; real  signifi- 
cance of,  55  ; the  nature  of,  311. 

Parallelism,  x. 

Past,  an  idea,  74  ; and  present,  differ 
in  more  than  degree,  175  ; essen- 
tially virtual,  173  ; that  which 
acts  no  longer,  74  ; has  ceased  to 
be  useful,  193  ; how  stored  up,  87  ; 
survival  of,  193  ; survives  in  two 
forms,  87. 

Past  states,  synthesized  in  char- 
acter, 188. 

Pathology,  evidence  from,  133. 

Perception,  always  full  of  memory 
images,  170  ; always  occupies  some 
duration,  25  ; and  affection,  dif- 
ference between,  53  ; and  matter, 
vii  ; and  matter,  kinship  of,  292  ; 
and  memory,  difference  between, 
71  ; and  memory,  differ  in  kind, 
75  ; and  memory-image,  not 
things  but  a progress,  162  ; and 
memory,  interpenetrate,  71  ; and 
memory  point  to  action,  302  ; and 
space,  23  ; a question  addressed 
to  motor  activity,  42  ; attention 
and  memory,  relations  of,  120  ff.  ; 
attentive,  a reflexion,  124  ; centres 
of,  160  ; directed  towards  action, 

21  ; displays  virtual  action,  8 ; 
distinct,  brought  about  by  two 
opposite  currents,  163  ; gives  us 
‘ things-in-themselves,’  303  ; im- 
personal, 25  ; less  objective  in  fact 
than  in  theory,  70  ; limitation  of, 
34  ; means  indeterminate  action, 

22  ; mixed  character  of,  270  ; 
never  without  affection,  59 ; of 
invidual  objects,  not  primary,  205  ; 
of  matter,  definition  of,  8 ; of 


33« 


INDEX 


matter,  discontinuous,  47 ; of 
things,  of  utilitarian  origin,  206, 
primary,  a discernment  of  the  use- 
ful, 206  ; pure,  26,  64  ; pure,  an 
intuition  of  reality,  84  ; pure,  a 
system  of  nascent  acts,  74  ; pure, 
its  reference  to  matter,  77  ; pure, 
lowest  degree  of  mind,  297  ; pure, 
theory  of,  69  ; reflective,  is  a circuit, 
126  ; subjectivity  of,  75  ; varies 
with  cerebral  vibrations,  12. 

Perceptive  fibres,  centrifugal,  125. 

Permanence  and  change,  260. 

Personality,  dilatation  of,  xiv  ; dis- 
eases of,  229  ; division  of,  229  ; 
present  undivided  in  perception, 

215. 

Philosophy,  the  method  of,  239. 

Photography,  mental,  and  subcon- 
sciousness, 101. 

Phrases  and  words,  148. 

Physical  and  mental,  the,  not  mere 
duplicates,  300. 

Physical  exercise,  how  learnt,  136. 

Pillon,  105  note,  107  note. 

Place,  diversity  of,  not  absolute,  256; 
every,  relative,  256. 

Plane,  of  action,  217  ; of  dream,  218. 

Presence  and  representation,  27. 

Present,  at  once  sensation  and  move- 
ment, 177;  definition  of,  193; 
ideal,  176  ; ideo-motor,  74  ; is 
consciousness  of  the  body,  177 ; 
is  sensori- motor,  177  ; materiality 
of  our  life,  177  ; real,  176  ; that 
which  is  acting,  74 ; unique  for 
each  moment,  177. 

Present  moment,  how  constituted, 
178. 

Progress  of  the  idea,  154. 

Psychasthenic  disease,  how  explained, 
xv. 

Psychic  blindness,  108,  in  ; and 
deafness,  132  ; as  a disturbance  of 
motor  habits,  115  ; does  not  hinder 
seeing,  161  ; two  kinds  of,  115. 

Psychic  life,  the  normal,  219  ; funda- 
mental law  of,  233. 

Psychical  states,  wider  than  cerebral 
states,  xiii  ; have  a practical  end, 
320  ; unconscious,  181. 

Psychology  and  metaphysics,  relation 
of,  xv. 

Pupin,  200  note. 

Pure  memory  and  the  memory-image, 
170. 

Qualities,  in  consciousness,  and  move- 
ments in  space,  267  ; of  different 
orders,  share  in  extensity,  282. 

Quality,  and  our  own  duration,  271 ; 
and  quantity,  235,  325  ; sensible, 


and  space,  282  ; suggests  some- 
thing other  than  sensation,  271. 

Quantity  and  quality,  235,  325. 

Rabier,  106  note. 

Ravaisson,  232  note. 

Reaction,  immediate  and  delayed,  22. 

Reading,  a work  of  divination,  126; 
mechanism  of,  125. 

Realism,  atomistic,  283 ; Kantian, 
307  ; makes  perception  an  accident, 
16  ; ordinary,  287. 

Realism  and  idealism,  viii,  12,  73; 
their  common  postulate,  283. 

Realist,  the,  starts  from  the  universe, 
14- 

Realists  and  idealists,  xvi  ; views  of 
universe,  53. 

Reality,  every,  has  a relation  with 
consciousness,  304  ; what  it  con- 
sists in  for  us,  189. 

Recognition,  and  attention,  119; 
animal,  93  ; attentive, ”118  ; atten- 
tive, a circuit,  145  ; automatic, 
118 ; basis  of,  a motor  pheno- 
menon, no;  bodily,  109;  by 
memory-images,  118  ; commonly 
acted  before  it  is  thought,  113; 
diseases  of,  115  ; erroneous  theories 
of,  107  ; essential  process  of,  not 
centripetal  but  centrifugal,  168  ; 
how  constituted,  87  ; in  general, 
105  ; intellectual,  145  ; of  images, 
86  ; of  words,  133  ; process  of,  316. 

Recollection,  spontaneous,  perfect 
from  the  outset,  95. 

Recollections,  disappearance  of,  149. 

‘ Region  of  images,’  165. 

Relativity  of  knowledge,  241. 

Repetition,  addressed  to  the  intelli- 
gence of  the  body,  137. 

Representation,  at  first  impersonal, 
43  ; image  and  thing,  vii  ; less 
than  existence,  27 ; measure  of 
possible  action,  30  ; of  the  universe, 
4 ; of  things,  reflected  by  free- 
dom, 29  ; unconscious,  183  ; use 
of  word,  3 note. 

Resemblance,  202  ; and  difference, 

209. 

Rhythm,  of  our  consciousness,  272. 

Ribot,  in,  121,  161,  200  note;  his 
law,  150. 

Rieger,  149  note. 

Robertson,  99  note. 

Romberg,  14 1. 

Rouillard,  201  note. 

Schumann,  100  note. 

Schwartz,  51  note. 

Science,  and  consciousness,  12 ; 
and  universal  continuity,  260. 


INDEX 


339 


Self,  the  normal,  212. 

Sensation,  localized  and  extended, 
180  ; supposed  unextended,  51. 

Sensations,  order  and  co-existence  of, 
165  ; tactile  and  visual,  287  ff. 

Sense,  good,  198. 

Senses,  data  of,  259  ; education  of,  45. 

Sensori-motor  system,  225. 

S6rieux,  142  note. 

Shaw,  161  note. 

Shock,  effect  of,  150,  224. 

Sight,  and  the  perception  of  exten- 
sity, 286. 

Similarity  and  contiguity,  associa- 
tions of,  212  ff. 

Skwortzoff,  157  note. 

Sleep,  and  present  reality,  227  ; its 
effect  on  memory,  199. 

Smith,  W.  G.,  100  note. 

Sommer,  101  note,  151  note,  158  note. 

Soul  and  body,  their  relation,  x ; 
union  of,  234. 

Sounds,  and  rhythm  of  movement, 
269. 

Soury,  162. 

Space,  abstract,  273  ; and  sensible 
quality,  282  ; and  time,  homogen- 
eous, not  properties  of  things,  280  ; 
artificial,  and  extension,  244  ; 
conceived,  extensity  perceived, 
245  ; homogeneous,  a diagram, 
293  ; homogeneous,  and  concrete 
extensity,  278  ; homogeneous  and 
the  new  hypothesis,  308 ; the 
symbol  of  fixity,  289  ; the  symbol 
of  infinite  divisibility,  289. 

Spamer,  141  note. 

Specific  energy  of  the  nerves,  49. 

Speculation,  influenced  by  habits 
formed  in  action,  xvii. 

Speech,  mechanism  of,  139  ; to  hear 
it  intelligently,  153. 

Spencer,  161  note. 

Spirit,  an  independent  reality,  82 ; 
life  of,  how  limited,  233. 

Spirit  and  matter,  reciprocal  action 
of,  325  ; transition  between,  295. 

Spiritualism,  error  of  in  relation  to 
matter,  79  ; use  of  word,  78  note. 

Stadium.  The,  of  Zeno,  252. 

Starr,  Allen,  in  note. 

States,  psychical,  have  a practical 
end,  320  ; strong  and  weak,  173, 

Strieker,  144. 

Subject  and  object,  their  distinction 
and  union,  77. 

Subjectivity,  a kind  of  contraction  of 
the  real,  25  ; of  affective  states,  52. 

Suggestions,  with  point  de  repere,  15 1. 

Sully,  107  note,  121  note. 

Survival,  of  the  past,  193. 


Symbols,  mathematical,  express  only 
distances,  not  real  movement,  255 

Tension,  327 ; idea  of,  237 ; in 
memory,  219,  221  ; psychic,  xv. 

Thing,  image,  and  representation,  vii. 

Things,  and  their  environment,  278. 

‘ Time  and  Free  Will,’  242  note,  268 
note,  286  note. 

Time,  homogeneous,  an  idol  of  lan- 
guage, 274. 

Time  and  space,  homogeneous,  not 
properties  of  things,  280  ; the 
unconscious  in  relation  to,  186. 

Tones,  of  mental  life,  221. 

Toxic  drugs,  effect  of,  228. 

Trajectory,  of  a moving  body,  246. 

Unconscious  mental  states,  183. 
representation,  183. 

Unconscious,  the,  in  relation  to  time 
andspace,  186  ; mechanism  of,  72; 
problem  of,  183. 

Unity,  the  factitious,  239  ; the  living, 
239. 

Valentin,  149  note. 

Van  der  Waals,  263  note. 

Verbal  images,  discontinuous,  159. 

Verbs,  why  retained  longest,  in 
aphasia,  152. 

Veridical  hallucinations,  73. 

Vertebrates,  nervous  system  in,  17, 

Virtual  image  and  virtual  sensation, 
169. 

Visual  image,  99. 

Voisin,  141. 

Voluntary,  the,  and  the  automatic, 
145- 

Vortex  rings,  265. 

Ward,  James,  106  note,  120  note, 
289  note. 

Wernicke,  149  note,  156  note. 

Wilbrand,  108. 

Winslow,  Forbes,  141,  150  note,  20a 
note. 

Word  blindness  and  deafness,  132  ; 
two  kinds  of,  133. 

Word  deafness,  and  motor  aphasia, 
138  ; with  retention  of  acoustic 
memory,  140. 

Words,  and  phrases,  148  ; auditory 
memory  of,  147. 

World,  material,  not  part  of  the 
brain,  4. 

Wundt,  121  note,  152  note ; his 
theory  of  perception,  164. 

Wysman,  157  note. 

Zeno,  paradoxes  of,  250  ff. 

* Zones  of  indetermination,’  32. 


THE  RIVERSIDE  PRESS  LIMITED,  EDINBURGH 


TRANS.  FftQM  ft, 

1993 


